A Wide Open Country
by clueless in seattle
Summary: Goren and Eames get assigned a case of blackmail. Then things begin to get more complicated. Some SVU crossover.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them is motivated only by my fond admiration. _

_**AN:**__ This story is not set entirely within the accepted "canon" or strictly within the "storyline" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series. It gives me the flexibility to take things in other directions. I only wish I was sure which ones they were going to be_

_And oh yeah…this not like my usual stuff…see why I'm really "Clueless" on this one??_

_**A WIDE OPEN COUNTRY**_

**Friday 11****th**** June**

_**Centre Street, Manhattan**_

Goren and Eames stepped into the early afternoon heat on a day, like much of that month so far, that was hot and sticky. In marked contrast to the air-conditioned frigidity of _100 Centre Street_ where for almost three hours one or other of them had been on the stand. The kind of grilling they got in turn from the wily defence attorney in the trial of Roger Day, trying to make them feel very warm at times.

"Take this Goren".

His partner, for a petite woman packed a remarkable number of pounds per square inch into her frame, as she shoved a large and heavy file firmly into his arms. Leaving both her hands free to take her shades from her purse and shed the smart, red jacket she was wearing.

"I'm already regretting the decision to leave the car behind" she muttered, retrieving it from him.

He took the chance to ease down the blue silk tie and release a couple of buttons on his shirt. "It's only a few hundred yards to walk Eames. We'll stay the shady side of the street"

"Try walking it in these shoes then"

"I would but it would be a pity to stretch them" Goren said, with a glance at her feet in black high heels of the sort he only saw her wear days like this and at social functions.

He reached in his jacket pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter he was given by his mother many years ago. When being a smoker wasn't the modern day equivalent of leprosy, in terms of how welcome you were in public places and at most social gatherings.

Eames scowled up at him as he lit it and inhaled. "I thought you were supposed to be quitting that again?"

"I am and I am" he replied, setting off at a pace allowed for the different lengths of their stride and the footwear factor. "This is only the third today. I swear"

"Doing it luke warm turkey rather than cold turkey?"

They stopped at the corner just as the lights changed to allow pedestrians to cross.

"Uhuh"

If traffic was bad in Manhattan, there were times the sidewalks almost seemed worse. Like ant colonies on the move as people swarmed over the cross walks. Always it seemed, marching in opposite directions and in equal numbers. Eames did the smart thing and ducked behind Goren. Let him be the one the ants coming the other way walked into, while she slipstreamed along behind him. Though with a guy his height they tended to see him coming and keep out the way.

One of those situations where she would normally tease him with some comment like _"size matters"_ just to see him become a little pink round the gills or discomforted, even after so many years of them working together. But moments of levity had been few and far between for a long time. Too long and a time when cracks began to appear everywhere including, for a while, in their professional and personal relationship.

Goren taking up again a habit he'd once quit was just one of those cracks. One in retrospect turned out to be minor. But now he seemed to have turned the corner and dealt with the more serious ones, she and others felt it was okay to get on his case about it.

On the other side of the street Goren realised Eames was back at his side and wrestling the jacket, the fat file and her purse, which kept slipping off her shoulder.

"Want me to carry that file Eames?" he enquired. "As you often remind me I've got longer arms than you"

She smiled to see a little more of that self-deprecating humour returning. "Thanks. Must be fourth grade since any boy offered to carry my books home from school for me"

As she passed it over Eames took the chance to whip the half smoked cigarette from the corner of Goren's mouth and toss it in the gutter.

He looked at it for a moment and licked his lip where a piece of skin had gone with it. "That was sneaky and it's littering Alex"

"So arrest me Detective" she said setting off again in the direction of 1PP.

**_One Police Plaza_**

The lobby and then the elevator of NYPD's headquarters building offered cool relief when they got inside. Eames took back the file from Goren envying that in one respect, he'd not changed. With the almost twelve months that had passed since the Roger Day investigation, she'd needed the Major Case file of record and some swotting to refresh her memory. Whereas Bobby and despite everything since, seemed to have relied on a few sheets and his personal and eccentric notes made at the time. Scanned briefly as they awaited their turns to be called to the stand

"Did we get him Goren?" she asked in the first mention of the case since he was excused from the witness box.

"We know he did it, we think we can prove he did it" he mused with a fractional shrug. "Jack looked as happy as he ever does when we were done. What twelve citizens think is another matter"

"Personally I hope they fry the son-of-a-bitch" Eames muttered. "And don't remind me the New York statute is for lethal injection or of your views on the death penalty"

"I won't. We agreed to disagree on that one a long time ago" Goren said mildly.

When the doors opened on the eleventh floor they went their separate ways into the male and female locker rooms. Shedding his jacket, rolling his sleeves and whooshing cold water over his face, Goren tried to put out of his head once and for all images of the carved up body of Yvonne McDonald.

Made by Day to look like a rape/homicide when the young intern at his Daddy's Wall Street finance company became, at first, little more than a passing sexual convenience to him. But as a result of that, an unwitting witness to some lucrative but illegal side deals he was working on. In Goren's view an exercise in financial and intellectual thrill seeking with Roger trying to prove to himself, if not the world, he had the same sized cohones as his old man.

It had trouble written all over it the first time he and Eames walked into the _Day & Littlejohn_ offices. When there were more sharp suited lawyers around everyone they spoke to than papers on their desks and all of them quicker to account for their social connections than their movements the night of the girl's death. And once they'd cut through various lies and obfuscation, Day's lawyers had been playing every card they could at each stage of the legal process

That was how it went with some cases. Though the primary criminologist dying in a traffic accident, while they were waiting for the case to grind its way to court, was a rare event. But you could understand why Jack McCoy was close to tearing his hair when the substitute he was relying on to get minimal but complex forensics across to the jury, turned out to be _"useless"_ in his words. Not his young and inexperienced fault, but if Day's head didn't roll on this one, Goren suspected McCoy would be headhunting for _"someone"_ at CSU he'd described in very colourful Anglo-Saxon.

The two of them had hardly sat down at their desks, never mind started to sift paper and messages dumped in their absence, when Ross loomed at his office door.

"Is he making that gesture in our direction Eames?" Goren asked blocking out his peripheral vision by pretending he had a sudden itchy forehead.

"'Fraid so" she replied.

Eames had not liked feeling she was _"piggy in the middle"_ at times after Danny Ross replaced Jim Deakins. Goren wasn't always easy to handle and not because he was by nature, difficult or short-tempered or deliberately disrespectful. People tended to forget he had a successful career in the military before he became a cop and no matter how brilliant you might be, _Uncle Sam_ wasn't known to just forget the rules and regulations for one _"pain in the ass"_ soldier.

It took her a while herself to realise that a lot of Goren's problems, or rather the ones other people had with him, owed their origins to his _"smarts"_ and his focus. It could make him seem arrogant or dismissive and appear obsessive, which some even mistook for unseemly ambition. She and Captain Deakins learned that, developed strategies to deal with it and with Goren. Which did occasionally did mean going toe to toe with the size thirteen's.

But the manner of Jim's departure hurt Goren more than he let on, even before the new guy arrived. Ross came with a very different personality and style and determined to make his mark. With a fair dose of smarts too but certainly over-influenced by what the gossip was on one of his new subordinates.

It wasn't exactly a recipe for disaster but certainly some rough times, when she would go home exhausted after a day of well chosen words in one ear or the other. Acting as a mixture of interpreter and mediator to get Ross and Goren to understand what the other was really saying and coming from. It was either that or resort to the quicker, but rather more extreme solution of shooting them both.

"Probably wants to know how the trial is going"

"Just tell me that's all it is Goren. You haven't done anything else to piss him off this week"

"That was a genuine mistake Eames" he muttered. "How was I to know that pack of coffee by the machine was his own personal supply? Shouldn't have left it there. Could have happened to anyone. And I replaced it"

"Good"

"And whatever it is" he stood up fixing his tie. "I'm counting to ten and getting ready to bite my tongue like you told me a hundred times"

"It's at least five hundred Goren. The air's much thinner up there. Sound takes longer to reach and get in your head"

Goren picked up his folder. "Could be. Though it doesn't travel at all in a vacuum of course. As Robert Boyle discovered when he…"

"Shut up! I got a B in physics I'll have you know" she muttered.

"Only a B?" he mocked. "Though I guess for…what was it Alex? A prom queen? A B is remarkable. Possibly, even unique. You coming to see the principal then?"

"When I get my shoes back on" she winced. "And you can go deleted expletive yourself Bobby"

_**To be continued…**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Friday 11****th**** June** _

_**The Dakota Building, Central Park West** _

Goren hadn't managed to annoy the hell out of Ross but her feet still felt like hell as Eames got in the driver's seat of the SUV over an hour later. Almost wishing she had the courage to let him drive and wondering if it would be better or worse to take her shoe off. He sat, as was often the case in a moment of contemplative silence.

"Eames?" he said as she put the key in the ignition. "Would _The White Album_ be in your top ten list? And how would you rate it compared to say _The Joshua Tree_ or _Born In The USA_?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "I think this might be another one of those times we talked about before Goren. You know the ones? The sort where it's better for your image in the long run if you keep some of your thoughts to yourself? Rather than sharing them?"

"Okay" he opened his folder as the engine fired. "So what do we make of Mrs Elizabeth Huntingdon? That's the New York and Newport Huntingdon's of course. Not the ones from Coney Island"

"I lost track of how she's connected to the Chief of Detectives. Somewhere around the nieces boyfriend and the tennis club" Eames eased the car into traffic ahead of a tour bus. "And call me old fashioned or narrow minded if you like, but I wouldn't tolerate any husband of mine having affairs so long as he was discrete about it"

"I'm sure you wouldn't Eames" Goren replied scanning his notes. "But whatever she might really think or feel that's what she's told us. And I doubt it's the fifty thousand dollars this apparent blackmailer wants to keep his latest indiscretion a secret concerns him or her. Loose change to people like the Huntingdon's. Though like you told her, pay once and you might as well wait in for the next call asking for more"

Eames halted the SUV in traffic building up early as it always did on Friday afternoons, especially in summer. "She seems convinced this is all tied up with that Riverside Mall business over in Long Island City and that would be a big contract for Ralph Huntingdon's company to lose. Assuming the City Council would drop them from the design short list on account of him being caught with his pants round his ankles"

"One of the things to follow up but anything is possible with that. The whole scheme has been dogged with controversy since day one. Anything that can get local retail associations and the Chamber of Commerce into an unlikely alliance with environmental groups and historic preservation societies is a bundle of trouble for our political masters. The last thing they need is more bad publicity and finger pointing on the Riverside project. Even if it just a private matter and nothing to do with the architectural and financial merits of any design they are considering"

"May just be a lot simpler Goren" Eames turned the car at the next corner. "Some former or even current employee with a grudge who is in a position to know enough about Ralph's professional and personal dealings. Nothing to do with rival architects and controversial redevelopment schemes. Don't understand why that didn't seem to have occurred to her"

Goren checked his notes. "According to her the man said something like _'if you know what's good for your business'_ so it's a reasonable assumption he meant in a commercial sense. And it's human nature. Not to assume the people who are or who have been close to you, suddenly would turn against you. As cops we find it easier to consider even the most unlikely people as suspects because we've seen it before. Though even we get fooled…I did anyway…lost sight of…"

"Don't Bobby" said Eames quietly. "That's over. It's done"

They were talking of course about her kidnapping by Jo Gage, the daughter of his one-time close friend and mentor. One of the many shells that had exploded into their lives. Leaving deep wounds and scars that had not fully healed for either of them.

"Have you really moved on Alex? As the well known cliché says?" Goren asked quietly.

"No. But I'm getting there. Same as you" she glanced over at him. "A little bit more every day. Now stop that and do what you do best and get going with one of your famous _'to do'_ lists. I fully intend to be in _Roark's_ ten minutes after our shift ends"

"Not walking there in those shoes you won't be" he said with a little smile.

**_Major Case Squad Room_**

They constructed the list together on the way back to 1PP and divided up who would do what as initial follow up. Though with the end of the working week for many people fast approaching, they didn't hold out hope of making a lot of progress. Many of the people they would need to speak to would be keen to be away from their desks and it would probably be Monday before either of the Huntingdon's got back to them. Hopefully, with a more considered list of people with a personal grudge than the few names she was able to suggest with Ralph on a three day business trip to Buffalo when the mysterious call came into the luxury apartment.

Back at his desk Goren sat down, wriggled in his seat and then swivelled round. "Okay then? Which of you borrowed my chair for a visitor and let them mess with it?"

The response from the nearby officers was either to ignore it, mutter obscenities or in Logan's case ball some paper, toss it and say "If that's your biggest problem right now Bobby, I want your job"

"You want me Mike. Badly. You know you do" Eames called over to him. "Now behave you two. School's not out for another hour"

After some adjustments Goren settled down and opened his folder. Very much suspecting that when Ross called Eames to brief him on what Elizabeth Huntingdon had to say and their initial plan of action, there was something else on his agenda too. Checking out with her something the Captain had not had chance to do earlier. Her opinion of how well he'd really handled being on the stand in the Day trial, when amongst other things the defence had gone for him, his methods and to some extent his personal credibility.

Jack McCoy had warned them to expect it and it wouldn't be the first time in Goren's career with NYPD and especially since joining Major Case. But those times were _'before'_. Before all the smelly stuff life had thrown at him. Before Jo Gage, before his Mom dying and before Mark Brady. And _'after'_ everyone around him had become very concerned just how well he really was handling not just work, but his whole life. The answer was very simple. He was well on his way to hell in a hand basket.

So he understood why Ross would be asking and knew Eames would feel uncomfortable about it. Talking behind his back and yet knowing at the same time she had no choice. Not when your partner has been skating on ice as professionally and personally thin as he had been. It would be the same if their positions were reversed. He would hate it but still do it too. Goren's only hope that he would have had the same capacity for patience and tolerance with Eames as she had shown him. And which had worn, understandably, very thin at times.

An hour later, those finishing their shift were starting to drift off, many being Friday to _Roark's_, which served as the local _"cop bar"_. When Eames looked up from her screen Goren had gone from his desk. Nothing unusual in that, but two glances told her two things. The Kersey file was missing from his desk and he was in one of the side rooms in a familiar pose. Chin in hand as he flipped the pages.

It bugged her almost as much as it did Goren that Doug Kersey's murder remained unsolved. Ross was also right when he said on Monday the time had come not to give up, but to give it the status of a _"cold case"._ One they were not to schedule into their work programme but set aside hoping some new lead would come to light. Except her partner had let this one get under his skin and not just for reasons of personal frustration.

It was one of the cases they were assigned when Goren was fast getting into a mess and most everyone around him could see it. When he was still in denial to her, to other colleagues and most of all himself that he was on a slippery slope. When he was frequently turning up late, looking like hell and at times impossible to work with. Short tempered which was not like him, withdrawn even more than had always been his private nature and making mistakes.

Nothing major or catastrophically bad, but things not followed through thoroughly, basic questions not asked that should have been and once or twice matters simply forgotten. Eames not always sure whether it was just exhaustion since it was obvious Goren wasn't sleeping well, if at all. Certain there were times he was more hung-over in the morning than just suffering the effects of insomnia and fearful as to what else he might be using in addition to alcohol and a renewed dependence on nicotine.

She found herself more often than Goren probably realised, playing backstop to his increasingly wayward behaviour. Having to call the play more when he seemed to be paralysed with indecision, blocking some of his wilder pitches and keeping his professional balls out of the dirt with Ross. Eames was sure they had not made any mistakes or missed anything with the Kersey case and so was the Captain. Convincing Goren was a different story.

When he finally seemed to recognise and halt the slide, he'd focussed on the Kersey case like a dog with a bone. It was almost as if he saw that as the manifestation of his problems, their failure to find Doug's killer a direct consequence of him almost dropping the ball and for a time Eames, had indulged some of his renewed focus on the case. Just relieved he seemed to be turning around.

The trouble now, was the case was still unsolved and Eames feared her partner was in danger of fixating. Seeing it as a personal burden he had to keep on carrying, as either penance or perhaps hoping its solution would prove to him he was back and almost firing on all cylinders. The very term she had used when she spoke with Ross earlier, confirmed Goren had been great in court and tried to persuade him that there was no longer real need for them all to worry.

So there was no way she was going to let the Kersey case undo the progress Goren had made in recent weeks and drag him back down again. Which meant she wasn't about to leave him in there, alone and with that file.

"Goren?" she said at the door. "_Roark's._ I'm buying"

"Huh?" he looked up with a puzzled frown.

"_Roark's_? Beer? The amber liquid comes in a glass this high and tastes good?"

"No thanks. Not tonight"

"I'm not leaving you here with that file again"

He closed it and stood up. "You're not Eames. And I'm not coming to _Roark's_ because I have an appointment uptown with my shrink in…oh shit…fifteen minutes"

Goren was out of the door before Eames was and her feet still hurt.

_**To be continued….**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Sunday 13****th**** June**

_**Morningside Heights** _

It was just after seven thirty when the telephone rang. Waking Caroline Reese with that mildly panicked sense it must have been chirping off the hook for hours and her blissfully unaware. And with a sinking feeling that to be getting a call at an unusual time, it must be bad news.

Some problem with family scattered across the country but mostly in Virginia and a few in other parts of the world, who sometimes forgot the time difference when they decided they owed you a call. She disentangled herself and felt for the receiver, concluding six months away from being on call for the hospital and she must have lost the art of rapidly focussing consciousness.

As Dr Reese got hold of the receiver to half yawn, half croak _"Hello",_ behind her there was a considerable disturbance and some muttering. Objects moving around on the night table and then the different sounds of some of them falling onto the floor. Including the jangle of some keys, a soft thud and the tinkle of loose change.

"_Hello. Is that Dr Reese? Caroline Reese?"_ said an unfamiliar female voice on the other end slightly hesitantly. It had better not be some damned student calling at this time.

"Yes it is" she scowled as her clumsy companion threw himself on his back with a Neanderthal grunt of annoyance and realisation it wasn't his cell phone after all.

"_Hello Doctor. It's Alex Eames here. Bobby Goren's partner?"_

"Oh hi there. Good to put a voice to the name"

"_You too. Sorry about the time but I need to get hold of Goren…um…his cell seems to be off or dead. Is he…er… with you?"_

Caroline glanced to her left. "Just about with us I would say. I'll put him on"

She turned over. "It's for you Rob. Alex"

"Ugh" he made another of those caveman noises and took the handset from her. "Yeah Eames?"

"_Sorry to interrupt…er…wake you Bobby. But we are on standby call today and when despatch couldn't reach you…"_

"Uhuh" Goren wriggled his shoulders, yawned, rubbed one eye and idly scratched his ear. "So what is it now you tracked me down?"

"_There's been a body found in Chelsea. A little girl of three or four and..."_

"SVU go on strike did they?" he interrupted her grouchily.

"_I don't know but the house is owned by Jaden Chong, though for some reason the body was found by the local beat cops about half an hour ago"_

"Who the hell is Jaden Chong?" he asked switching the phone, reaching out his right hand to find Caroline's and not entirely surprised she moved hers out of his reach. She'd already worked out their morning wasn't about to turn out as they planned.

"_City Councillor Tommy Chong's son. Chairman of the Environmental Protection Committee"_

"Him I do know of. And it's Economic Development"

"_It's early for contradiction Goren" Eames snapped. "And I got woken up too you know"_

"Sure you did. Sorry"

His day really had not started very well with the chance he had already pissed off the two women, for different reasons, central to his life right now. _And the semi-conscious moron of the day award goes to…Robert Goren._ He made a mental note of the address you might have expected to be in the classier residential part of Chelsea if it was connected to the Chongs.

Councilman Tommy Chong as the name suggested, was a third generation Chinese American with strong business and social links in Chinatown, which fell into his City District. He and his wife had about half a dozen kids so where this Jaden came into the picture he had no idea. And what little dealings Goren was forced to have with their political masters, Chong had always seemed sound and didn't have the reputation of a few of them. Which was to expect the force to be hard and heavy on crime in New York, so long as it did not disaffect their electorate in election year. Or prove socially awkward for their family and friends, if they were the ones caught the wrong side of it.

"_Not too far out my way to come get you" offered his partner. "If you don't have your car there"_

"Just a minute" he covered the mouthpiece and wiggled against his companion. "Caro? Any chance of me borrowing your car? I doubt this will take long. Body in Chelsea. With luck we can hand it off after an initial look"

"So long as you remember the pedal on the left is for using the gears"

"I will. And thanks" he gave her bare shoulder a quick kiss. "Eames. No I'm fine. Forty minutes? Thirty with luck?"

"_See you there. And say sorry again to your shrink for me"_

"I will once I'm done with my own grovelling. Bye"

He cut off the call, set the phone aside and really snuggled up. His hand rubbing gently over her belly as he nuzzled Caro's shoulder and up towards her neck.

"Is this your idea of grovelling?" she asked quietly. "Only it looks…don't you dare move your hand another inch lower…and is starting to feel rather like something else"

"Could be" he murmured.

"Ever the optimist aren't you?" Caroline laughed softly.

"I said forty minutes Caro. Time enough" he reminded her. Concluding if he couldn't slide his hand _"down"_ she said nothing about _"up"_ being out of bounds. And there were two great incentives in that direction.

"Does that include the cigarette and the twenty minute nap after? Assuming you can…um…come up with the goods before that. You're not fifteen any more you know"

"Well thank you" he pulled off her and flopped on his back. "It's remarks like that are no help at all to a guy" he turned and smiled at her. "Would be a shame to have to rush and you know I..."

"Go get a shower. I'll make you some coffee, call my insurance company to double my cover and find the car keys"

"Thank you Caro"

He swung out of bed quickly now he was fully conscious to head for the bathroom.

"Aaargh!" he yelped. "Shit!"

He had trodden on something very painful, was stumbling among the debris on the floor and was trying not to stand on the cell phone. Which might need a new battery for it not to be holding a charge.

"I think I just found the car keys" he hobbled naked towards the bathroom door.

"Rob?" Caroline called as she sat up in bed.

"Yeah?" he halted halfway through.

"You know I love your butt but that's really not a good look for you" she giggled.

He frowned. "Which one?"

"The used rubber stuck to your right heel one"

The day really was getting worse by the minute.

_**To be continued…**_


	4. Chapter 4

_Please note: this chapter is long and dark in places_

**Sunday 13****th**** June**

_**2007 Ford Mustang GT Convertible (Manual Shift/Torch Red)**_

The newer model Mustangs didn't have the same classic and _"dangerous"_ look to them as the ones he grew up with but Goren wasn't about to complain. The V8 under the hood throbbed just nicely, it was made to be driven manual shift and anyone who said rear wheel drive had its day was an idiot. Nor as he headed south through Manhattan, would he necessarily want to be without some of the modern gadgetry on most cars.

Unlike the older _Ponies_, including those with hard tops, this one didn't have built in drafts unless you put the roof down. A temptation he'd resisted given the urgency of the situation, his rush to leave Caro's apartment and the time it took to adjust everything else on the car. So his knees were not up round his ears, the steering wheel not embedded in his crotch and him only able to see the Mustang's own sleek lines in the mirrors.

It did cross Goren's mind when he stopped at some lights to flick the switch to fold the roof back, since it was already a warm morning. But then he saw a bunch of Lycra clad female joggers heading his way. It would have looked far too much like a lecherous middle-aged man trying to impress young hotties with his boy toy.

Especially so in that colour Caro admitted herself, was a cliché. When he first saw the car, she told him she believed every woman should have at least one bright red convertible before she reached forty or settled down. She'd yet to do the latter and concluded four years off the big _"four o"_ she might as well make maximum use of the time left. It was an interesting philosophy he was inclined to agree with, though by then he was itching to indulge his own petrol head tendencies and persuade her to let him drive it.

Contrary to the word he'd used on Friday and what Eames had said earlier, Dr Caroline Reese was not a _"shrink"_. That term was usually restricted to psychiatrists who first qualified as medical doctors. She was a clinical psychologist, her doctorate was one of philosophy and her substantive post was at Massachusetts General in Boston. Nor had their relationship ever been a professional one with him as a _"client"_. If so, she would have been in major breach of ethics even before they began sharing a bed.

Nor and, despite what some people perhaps assumed, was what was between them ever any form of informal _"therapy"_ for him. Unless you counted the therapeutic effects of spending time with someone who was interesting, funny, not another cop and had the added bonus for a straight guy. Of being a good-looking woman who pressed all his buttons below his belly one. As Caro once said herself, there was a clear line between people she dealt with professionally and interacted with socially. For reasons of her own self-preservation, never mind the fact she had a Mustang to keep on the road and didn't work for free.

Goren also knew if anyone would have been able to detect her going into _"therapy"_ mode it would be him. He'd had, like it or not, many years of informal education in the field and experience of that profession dealing with his Mom. He'd known Caroline Reese maybe six hours, seen her three times before he ever realised he'd drawn a wrong conclusion about her occupation the first time they met. An occasion when he was not exactly at his best.

In _"The Divine Comedy"_ Dante had claimed that the inferno of hell had nine circles of increasing misery for the occupants, culminating in the frozen lake of _Cocytus._ Goren was never sure in the months after his mother died exactly which circle of his own personal hell he reached, though the ninth he'd notionally thought of as _"Surrender"_. The point where he wouldn't even realise he'd given up trying. Not until he found himself out of job or getting treated for an overdose of something in an ER and possibly both.

Whether he hit circle five, six or seven didn't really matter. What did, was that he'd gone from using alcohol in moderation and for relaxation to consciously self-medicating with it. Never reached the point of secretly drinking on the job but he would have failed a blood alcohol test many mornings when he got to work. Eames and others like Logan and Wheeler certainly realised that and sometimes had to run interference for him with Ross until he was over the worst of the early fog.

On top of that there was medication for depression his physician prescribed when he finally yielded to the pressure to go see him. Except he was increasingly abusing that as well. Doubling up the dosage, especially at night to try to help him sleep. Deceiving his doctor and making the supply last as long it should, by supplementing it with pills from the street. You didn't work Narco as long as he did or have a schizophrenic mother without developing both considerable knowledge of pharmaceuticals and where to get them illicitly. Nor was it just _"uppers"_ and _"downers"_ he was using and it was sheer dumb luck he never got caught up in a random test.

Little wonder people feared Bobby Goren was on the edge of a total _"breakdown"_ when a lot of what he was doing _"to cure"_ the situation was inexorably becoming part of _"the problem"._ And like most people in that situation Goren himself knew it. Knew he was being protected from himself at times by his partner who was risking her own career to do it. Saw the huddles of colleagues round the water cooler who looked suddenly awkward when they saw him coming. Knew there was a limit to their patience with him and that of the friends he'd been systematically pushing away and were no doubt making worried calls between them. He knew it; he hated himself for it and thus the circle went on as he sought escape from self-loathing by putting more mood altering substances down his throat or into his lungs and several times up his nose.

It wasn't who he was. All his adult life he'd been determined not to be his reckless and dissolute father or his older brother Frank, who for all his weaknesses and failures always seemed to be preferred for reasons he never understood. He could break the mould of genes, rearing and example and had seemed to be succeeding. Then one thing after the other began to go wrong, to eat away at the professional and personal life he'd built for himself and with it, eroding the self belief that had been essential to survive much of his early life.

Then one day Robert Goren simply didn't know who _"he"_ was or _"what"_ he was anymore. His mother's dying bombshell about his possible paternity didn't bring that about. It just brought into focus very sharply something that had been quietly happening for longer than he probably realised. Bobby Goren thought he was a house built on rock. But it turned out to be sand after all and what Mom said was just the final wave to wash away an already crumbling foundation.

There was no sudden conversion on the road, no single event that prompted the change, no chord struck by anyone who cared for him that stopped the downward spiral. He just woke up one morning feeling like shit, which wasn't exactly novel and looked about him. The usually pristine apartment had become one you couldn't rent to pigs with a sense of smell. His mother's possessions brought back from Carmel Ridge still sitting in boxes gathering dust and a cross between a distillery and a drug store, in a kitchen that the health department would condemn.

The contents of the bottles and any substance didn't have a proper pharmacy label went down the john while coffee brewed. By afternoon the place was clean though he'd lost will and energy to deal with his mother's effects. But the evening was liable to be a dangerous time. Time to fill and one where his regular aimless and nocturnal wanderings would too easily take him by too many bars could prove too hard to resist.

Amid the midden when he was clearing up, he'd found a programme of extra mural lectures at Colombia. So he took himself off to the Art Faculty, where a professor and the topic of Caravaggio kept held his attention for just over an hour. He'd noticed the brunette across and a row down because of the bright yellow sweater. And from a question she asked and seeing her talking to the speaker as a mix of people filed out, he assumed she was a fellow faculty member. He'd browsed some other notices and gone for a coffee in the cafeteria to kill time. Then, leaving the rest room, not paying attention, thinking about _Jack Daniels_ and struggling with his topcoat, he'd walked right into the woman in the yellow sweater.

Her take away latte landed mostly on him and he made almost as much mess of the apology and trying to gather the contents of a file he'd knocked out of her hand. Forty minutes later he'd dried out, she'd drunk the replacement sitting with him in the cafeteria, they'd exchanged first names, discussed the lecture and shared the fact they had both seen the painter's _"The Beheading of St. John the Baptist"_ at the cathedral named for him in Malta. Though not how they each came to be on the tiny Mediterranean Island where Caravaggio completed some of his most important work and which led him to be considered as the master of _Chiaroscuro_.

"_See you next week maybe"_ was just something you said automatically, but during the very tough seven days he had sober and only taking his prescription meds it was a target for Goren to aim for. That he wouldn't go back to the bottle or street drugs until then and get himself to Colombia. Not easy when no longer numb and insensitive you begin to realise fully the extent of what you've done to yourself and to those around you. To realise how much your partner had been carrying and covering up for you. The sort of reality that you did want to escape and evade with artificial help to avoid the pain.

But he did it somehow, got to Columbia and took up Caroline's gesture to sit with her and a friend. But at the end it was only the two of them went for coffee. All he really told her was he was a cop and anything they learned about each other was more in passing than the result of questions either of them asked directly. He gathered she was at the University working on a research project with a former classmate from Harvard and that her permanent home was Boston. The only thing he did clumsily explore was whether he was keeping her from a vague _"something or someone"_ when he realised how the time had flown discussing art and movies. He wasn't in any state or shape to be looking for a relationship and at that time considered himself to be a very bad bet for any woman, with all he was working through.

So no one was more surprised than Goren as they headed towards separate ways. When he found himself suddenly saying _perhaps…sometime…if she wanted…they could do something? A gallery or one of a season of Mexican movies he saw in the paper…showing at City College?_ Not sure when he found himself alone on the sidewalk, if he'd hallucinated the part where Caroline said she'd not yet seen the special _Renaissance Religious Art_ exhibit at the Met and they could meet there on Saturday. Obviously not, since he was there at the appointed time and so was Caroline. And it was only during cake and coffee afterwards that he discovered she wasn't what he thought she was. When she said she'd not be at the lecture next week because she had to return to Boston for a hospital board meeting.

The rest as they say was history. They began to see each other maybe once a week. Not really _"dating"_ and not him pouring out his problems looking for free professional help. He deliberately evaded and avoided those things. Just grateful Caro let him do that when odd words slipped out, as inevitably they did over time. Just friends and it was two months before he discovered she'd switched plans to go with other people to meet him at the Met that weekend. But then walking in Central Park, not sure it was the smart thing to do and as anxious as a thirteen year old, he'd just reached for her hand. Not had his own rejected and been told she should probably confess something to him now.

By then he was starting to reduce the prescription tranquillizers and accepting it would be a while before Ross and Eames eased their not always very subtle surveillance and monitoring of what he was doing, how he looked and the odd quizzical glances when he said something slightly off the wall. As Alex said the other day, she was _"getting there"_ in terms of her particular demons and he was doing the same. Whether things would ever be quite the same Goren had no idea. He was still finding out all over _"who"_ he was, but not being sure wasn't scary any more and something else had come back into his life.

Whatever _"happy"_ was these days for him and was going to be in the future, at least he felt that emotion again. And not just when he and Caroline were in bed, again something happened in stages and gradually. Maybe not the norm for adults in an age when you went from first base to the grand slam homer in the blink of an eye. He'd had his fair share of those experiences down the years as well and might have had more, for all the good it would have done him.

If he'd had a hot Mustang to impress the girls when he was younger for example. Would have had a part share in one too, had bloody Lewis not traded the one they were re-building for a death trap, VW camper van. Without asking him first and trying to convince him by the time next summer came, they'd have it in a fit state to make it all the way to the West Coast. With the added convenience of a bed on wheels for them and all the girls they'd lure into it along the way.

To Goren's knowledge Lewis never lured a single one anywhere in the Five Boroughs, forget LA and all points between. Because it barely left the drive of his folks place by the time summer came and he was on his way to basic training. _Come to think of it, he never did get all the money he was owed on his end of that bad trade._

Goren turned the Mustang onto West 25th making a mental note to one day extract the last forty-two dollars and fifty cents from his friend and once through the perimeter, weaving the car around the usual collection of official vehicles a crime scene attracted. Searching for a spot to leave it, Goren saw Eames walking along the sidewalk and then greeting a man and woman.

Just as you thought the day couldn't get any worse, it did. When he realised that was Elliot Stabler.

_**To be continued…**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Sunday 11****th**** June**

_**West 25**__**th**__** Street, Chelsea**_

When Goren joined the other three he didn't need to be told from the way they were dressed Stabler and Benson were on shift, unlike himself or Eames. There was a brief round of _"Morning Eames"_ and _"Hi Bobby"_ made them sound like _The Waltons_ at the breakfast table. If the Stone Age grunts he and Stabler exchanged, whilst avoiding eye contact, would qualify for inclusion. He would have bet all of next month's paycheck on the sort of remark then came out of his mouth. With a nod at the Mustang and aimed at him.

"I see you people at _The Majorly Connected Squad_ got better Christmas bonuses than us Goren"

The term was one of two or three often directed at those who worked Major Case. One they learned to ignore as much as Special Victims Unit detectives learned to ignore _"The Panty Police"_ or "_The Kiddie Cops"_.

"I jacked it at the corner of Amsterdam and West 96th" Goren replied.

Immediately thinking much less of himself for responding at all and directing his next remark to Eames and Benson. "Why are we standing on the street?"

It was Olivia who spoke. "According to CSU the place has really been turned over Bobby. They are literally clearing a path through in some rooms so we are not trampling possible evidence. The little girl is almost completely covered by the contents of her room so they are photographing as they move everything off, before the doc can even get a look "

"Hell" muttered Eames "Where's Jaden Chong? I got told this was his place and he called 911"

"Oh he's long gone" muttered Stabler, unfolding his arms to waggle his hand and whistle through his teeth. "We were just waiting on Sergeant Edwards there to finish speaking to his uniforms to establish what exactly has gone on here. Giving their asses a kick too I hope"

Stabler was right of course. As the apparent owner of the property and a material witness the guy should never have been let go, whomever he was related to. But his mood didn't bode well and specialist unit personnel were unwise to ruffle the feathers of the local precinct officers with unasked for and negative opinion. The look from Olivia probably kept him from saying more, as Edwards failed to hitch his pants over his stomach and joined them.

Goren ignored the one from Stabler when he leaned his folder on the trunk of a car, he then realised must be theirs to take a few notes as the Sergeant explained. How Jaden Chong owned the property but it was rented to a woman called Grace Webster. A twenty-seven-year-old employee in the City Council Planning Department, living there with her daughter. Tamara aged three and something. An age and from a vague description by Chong and neighbours being canvassed, would appear to match with the dead child. She and the mother had not been seen for certain by anyone local since Friday afternoon, there was no sign of the woman in the town house but there was a large quantity of blood in the kitchen.

"So what was Chong doing here at seven this morning?" frowned Benson.

"According to the officers he said he'd been trying to contact Ms Webster about something since Thursday and getting no response" said Edwards "The impression he gave, whatever it was, he was annoyed about it. He was on his way home after a night out and thought he'd catch her home that time of the morning. Was in evening clothes and just down the street was a limo where a woman he didn't name was waiting for him. Let himself in the front door with a key and seeing in the front two rooms what looked like a burglary, hightailed it back to the car and called 911"

"Didn't check for the Webster woman or the kid?" Eames enquired with a tone of incredulity.

"Apparently not Detective Eames" said the sergeant "Though there could be an explanation for that I'll come back to. When our guys got here they went in. When they got to the kitchen and living areas and saw the blood they naturally realised it probably wasn't just a very messy burglary. Continued the check now looking for a seriously injured person and came across the kid"

He then went on to describe how the moment one officer came out and he learned about the dead child Jaden Chong's attitude changed. From one of concern about his property since most of the contents of the house belonged to him, to how quickly he could get away. Seemed shocked about the child but began to throw in his Daddy's name and position and was, to some extent, backed up by two men who were with the car. Two men who might be in evening dress but no question were armed security, quite aggressive in saying something like _"their package had nothing to do with this"_ and more or less hightailing it out of the street. Taking Chong with them and short of shooting, the officers unable to stop them. The position of the limo and them dealing with the discovery of the body meaning they didn't get a full licence number. But one officer was sure the plate was a diplomatic one.

"That would fit" said Goren "_Package_ is the word you'd expect some sort of Federal security detail to use. Or one from an overseas embassy or UN delegation"

"Especially from a country which has received a lot of training or input from American sources including the military" added Stabler without announcing he'd done such work himself whilst in uniform.

Eames noted the unexpected element of support for her partner from Stabler. With both Elliot and Goren having a military background it was easy to see how they might both come to that conclusion. But that shared experience never seemed to give an inch of common ground between them, never mind the sort of camaraderie you saw between other former Army personnel on the force. Neither she nor Benson, who had known each other some years and considered themselves friends, had yet discovered what the problem was between them. They never worked the same precinct or squad and fortunately this was the first time they'd ever been called to a case together. Thanks to some confusion, enthusiasm or mess up in despatch, which resulted in two specialist squads being alerted. The only time they usually came across each other was in hallways at 1PP, at occasional social functions and now and then when Olivia and Elliot dropped by _Roark's._

"It would also fit with Jaden Chong's public image" muttered Benson. "Not known for dating check out girls is he?"

"I wouldn't know" said Stabler "Never have time to read the gossip columns Liv"

His partner gave him a withering stare and said. "Go on please Joe"

The older man gestured. "We started an initial canvass of the neighbours as you see. Most useful so far is Mrs…um Mrs Ruth Bloom next door here. According to her there's been a fairly regular boyfriend the last six months. White, early thirties, name of Mike. She doesn't recall the second name, she thinks was Irish. Would fit with dark auburn hair. Possibly a decorator since she's seen him in paint-stained overalls. Drives a small but old RV. Seemed very pleasant, good with the kid she is sure is not his. But Thursday evening she heard the sound but not the content of a very angry argument between him and Grace before he drove off"

"Violent? Regular?" enquired Stabler

"Shouting but nothing like a physical fight or things being thrown and no. Never heard or sensed trouble between them before. And according to Mrs Bloom though he seems to stay over quite regularly he's not what you would call living here and maybe he's not been around so much in the last month"

"An RV, even a small one, isn't something would go unnoticed in this street" said Eames with a look at the sort of cars parked nearby.

"Which brings us to the missing, new white Lexus SUV" said Edwards "And why Chong perhaps didn't expect there was anyone in the house. According to Mrs Bloom that suddenly appeared in place of Grace Webster's five-year-old Grand Prix in the last week. We didn't find anyone yet who saw it after Friday evening, though our reluctant landlord was able to give us the licence plate we took the liberty of putting an alert out on"

Stabler's head whipped round. "He knew the tag?"

"Uhuh"

"Ten bucks says it's his car" said Goren "Any takers?"

"His?" said Olivia

"Unless he's in the habit of calling regularly Liv why or how would Jaden Chong know the registration of a car only appeared in the last week?" Elliot posed to his partner. "How many landlords would even know for sure what car their tenant drove never mind it's licence number?"

"Not sure they ran that" said Edwards. "Just assumed it was hers. Though I guess it is an upmarket model for her to be running. Excuse me folks while we check that out? Unless there is anything else?"

When none of them spoke Eames nodded him away and folded her arms.

"Am I the only one starting to wonder whether Jaden and Grace are just landlord and tenant? If Bobby and Elliot are right and that it's his car how come he gives or loans it to her? And unless she turns out to be more than just a Planning Administrator at City Hall how does she afford the sort of rent he could be charging in an area like this? As a single parent and with some kind of day care to fund"

"Two or three of us together could probably run to it" said Benson with a nod at Goren and Eames. "Unless she has a private source of income?"

"And was driving a five year old Grand Prix?" said Goren pulling some gloves from his folder and nodding towards the door. "Looks like Doc Trent is finished inside. Ready for a look see?"

"Right with you" said Stabler sticking close to his shoulder as they went towards the short flight of steps to the open front door.

Eames and Benson hung back a little.

"So far so good Alex. They didn't take their jackets off yet. Did you ever ask Bobby?"

"Not the way things have been until recently"

"Yeah we heard stuff. Rumour and trash talk mostly. How's he doing? More the point how are you doing? I should call you more often"

"Much better thanks Liv. He is and as a large consequence so am I. You know what it can be like. You and Elliot had your ups and downs"

"Tell me" she muttered snapping on gloves. "Maybe it is just a personality thing between them? Hard to find two guys so different and yet who...who almost...despise...the kind of strengths the other has"

"Nah" said Eames "Something happened only the two of them know about. From then on it coloured everything else"

"Keep your gun handy" shrugged Benson. "Just in case they already found the only two things they are going to agree on this morning"

_**To be continued…**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Sunday 13****th**** June**

_**The Town House, West 25**__**th**__** St**_

At the door of the house the four of them pulled on covers for their shoes handed them by CSU, as Maggie Trent gave them a concise summary about the child's body subject to the additional exam and post mortem findings. They should enable her to narrow down a time of death. From the _"no less than 24 hours and no more than 48"_ she was saying and tied in with the last known sighting of the little girl by neighbours.

There were no wounds so the blood was not hers and neither were there any signs externally of recent or past physical abuse, which as Benson said might begin to rule out one option you had to consider. The only bruising was round the neck. That and other findings were consistent with strangulation as probably the cause of death. Lividity indicated the body had not been moved since it ended on the floor. And the only other _"good news"_ if you could call it that, was no obvious evidence of any sexual element to her death.

Goren and Eames glanced at each other knowing what the other was thinking. That they heard such things quite often with female victims but rarely in their job about a child and were very glad of that. Neither had ever said it outright but had a pretty good idea SVU was the one detail the other would never want.

When they entered the house, Goren was beside Benson so he went automatically right to the first room and she left, to the one opposite. Unaware that behind them, Eames and Stabler were doing a sort of dance round each other to be sure of sticking with their own partner.

Neither pair stayed too long with a CSU technician in each checking the window for sign of forcing or taking pictures of the shambles had been left in both sitting and formal dining rooms. Cupboards turned out and even heavy items of furniture shifted from against walls. They met again in the hall.

"Funny kind of burglar ignores portable valuables like a CD player" said Stabler

"Same here" said Goren. "Genuine small pieces of silver in the dining room would be easy enough to sell"

"Only wanted jewellery or cash?" said Eames, though she wasn't really making that a serious suggestion and the others knew it too from their neutral expressions.

"Want to take upstairs you two?" nodded Goren to his partner's relief.

Chances were when jurisdiction got sorted out, this would get assigned to SVU and he wasn't letting his focus tread on professional sensibilities. Either that or Goren's own forensic inclinations were drawing him to the blood in the kitchen.

"You go on" replied Elliot who might also be trying to show he could be polite too.

Then his phone rang and he stepped back to take the call. _"Stabler"_

Goren started up the narrow stairs as the distinctive voice of Jimmy Antonelli sounded from the back of the hall.

"Why it's Alex Eames! Please introduce me to your new partner who is as beautiful as you are"

Antonelli was an incorrigible flirt they came across quite frequently. Cheesy as hell, as Eames once agreed but according to her very, very good to look at. Something Goren never felt qualified to agree with or dispute. But he was in little doubt which way Alex would head and probably leave him stuck with Elliot once he was off the phone.

* * *

At the top, Goren asked the brunette he was qualified to classify as _"cute but far too young"_ to show him the pictures taken in the child's room before she started in on the bathroom. It was also scattered with the contents you might expect in a household where a young woman and child lived. It did help to see just how she was when she was found. Clothes, toys and drawers almost thrown on top of the body and even the mattress from a single bed making her almost invisible. Just confirmed what Goren guessed was the growing suspicion of all of them. The disturbance had all the hallmarks not of a rapid turn over by an anxious burglar looking for easily fenced valuables, but a systematic search for something specific. 

He stepped in the child's room, immediately struck by something and finding amid the things CSU had semi-stacked and sorted what he was looking for. A photograph, obviously pulled from a frame, of an African American woman fit what they knew of Grace Webster and an olive skinned real little sweetie smiling in a pink party dress. He crouched on the floor by the so tiny corpse in lemon cotton pyjamas. Laid out ready to go in a body bag, the animated face now stiff and waxy in death and with the faint smell of early decomposition.

Goren put all that out of his head as he compared picture with face. Then with a frown, noticed something else. Something that did make him hesitate on this occasion before he did it. Just his luck he was gently parting the child's legs as Stabler stepped in the room.

"Jesus Goren!" he snapped. He knew the man's reputation for being far more _"hands on"_ with a body than most detectives and certainly more than he ever was. Especially with the type of victim's they dealt with.

"Urine staining" he gestured, not about to let Stabler's sensibilities stop him thinking something through might be relevant long term. "Could be peri-mortem especially with a strangling. Wouldn't you normally diaper a child this age?"

Elliot wasn't sure where Goren was going but even he wasn't an expert on everything it seemed. "Not necessarily. A lot are reliably dry at night by that age. Two of mine were" he paused as he saw some bed linen.

Goren watched him unfold it. "No sign of an accident then?"

"No" Stabler crouched down beside him. "See where you are thinking now. Sorry. That little Tamara here heard or was woken up by what ever went on downstairs. Peed her pants in fright or too scared to go to the bathroom as quite probably her Mommy was…"

"Yeah" said Goren pushing aside the image of a little boy of five or six doing the same one time his parents had a violent argument downstairs. "And this?" he handed Stabler the picture.

"If that's Tamara this looks like her and…" Elliot glanced at him. "And looking at her features I'm thinking what you are Goren. About the possible relationship between this baby girl and Jaden Chong. Might begin to explain a lot"

"And the bastard still ran out with his fancy who ever she was" Elliot added as they both stood up.

"Having a kid doesn't mean you wanted it or loved it Stabler" said Goren. "You should know that from doing your job"

"Guess I do. Doesn't stop me being…well never mind. Strange kind of decoration for a kids room"

"I was thinking just the same. No bunny paper, no teddy bear stencils and black and silver stripe pattern wouldn't be my idea of nursery décor. Though I'd kind of like it for myself"

"Me too though getting it by Kathleen would be impossible. Either Grace didn't have the money or the landlord wouldn't let her redecorate and wouldn't spring for it himself. If he is her Daddy it doesn't add to the idea Chong was thrilled by it all does it?"

"Does not. You want to finish off in here or next door? While I start on the master?"

"Sure. Take it you know what you're looking for Goren?"

"Same as you Stabler" he said stepping by him. "Something that shouldn't be here"

What was unexpected or out of place at a crime scene could be as valuable as what was not. Sometimes more so because it was what the killer in this instance left behind or brought with them. Something might lead back to them.

* * *

Benson and Eames picked their way through the path cleared in the large living space to the kitchen. Jimmy Antonelli, the very cute CSU officer, after introduction to Olivia explained he'd found no sign of forcing of the window or the door. One, which led out to a paved area down the side of the end terrace and evidently acted as a valuable parking space. 

"Now" he said. "Since Bobby isn't around I guess I get to do my own job for once. The blood patterns"

"Enough of it" said Olivia with a glance round the top of the range kitchen.

"We'll start here" he stepped around the central table. "Here on the icebox we've got typical cast off and at a height suggests an attack when the victim and the assailant were standing"

"Knife or blunt instrument then" said Olivia

"Smart and good looking" he grinned. "And before you ask we didn't come across a possible murder weapon yet"

"There's a knife missing from that block just beside you on the counter" nodded Eames.

Jimmy shook his head. "So much for foreplay. What is it with women these days? It's not in the dishwasher either if that's what you're thinking"

"I was" said Benson. "You can tease us again now Jimmy"

"Thanks. Now across here we have gravitational drops. Possibly from the weapon but I think more likely the victim because they carry right over to near the door getting bigger not smaller. Now we come to the main event. More cast off here on the door and the side of this cupboard. Height says the victim was most likely on the floor. And you see the shape of the blood pool detectives?"

Eames turned her head sideways thinking it was how Goren often studied things. "Most of the circular spread towards us with a definite line the other side. Victim was on their side? Back to the door or against it as they bled out?"

"See? Who needs the big guy Alex?" he winked. "Not enough blood to say for sure unconsciousness and death. But you ladies know that the internal bleeding can be the fatal part. Would put my money on something sharp more than blunt given the volume as well"

"The smears where the victim was dragged or crawled" said Benson indicting with her arms. "Away from the door they were blocking as they lay dead or dying. Or moved so the perp could get out? Less chance of being seen via that sideway. Especially if we assume this happened during darkness"

"No external light out there and since apparently a car is missing you could be in and away with no trouble" said Antonelli.

Eames frowned. "Any chance the victim of an attack like this walked away?"

"Amount of blood Alex?" he shrugged. "Staggered perhaps. But there is no sign of gravitational drops out here, in the hall or on the front steps. We already checked"

"Carried away?" Benson was thinking aloud. "Dead or alive? Maybe put in the missing SUV and driven away?"

"I'll have someone start checking the hospitals just in case" said Eames pulling out her cell phone.

They stepped back into the living area.

"He is kind of cute" murmured Benson

"I know" hissed Alex. "That's the real shame of it Liv"

"Why do guys who are and know it, so often turn out to be a-holes?"

"I console myself by thinking that bulge in his pants is probably just a sock" said Eames waiting on a reply.

Benson began to step carefully through the room littered with paper, toys, even pictures lifted from the walls and cushions from Jaden Chongs very expensive chrome and leather sofas.

* * *

Goren was still picking up and checking out some of the clothes scattered across the master bedroom. Anything with pockets had them turned out and there was nothing about the labels to suggest Grace Webster had another source of income. Nor in the jewellery was minimal and costume. The one piece of any value he found was a heavy link gold bracelet you would have expected a thief to take.

Though that wasn't totally true as he went one more time through it all. When he spotted a single gold cufflink he hadn't registered first time. One made him stop, think, frown and think again, seriously examining his conscience.

"What do you make of this Goren?" said Stabler at the door making him jump.

Goren went over to him, palming the cufflink into the pocket of his jeans. "That's a diaphragm in your left hand"

"I'm Catholic. How would I know such a thing?" he winked in the first sign of _"thaw"_ in his attitude. "Went looking for birth control in the bathroom after I found this in Tamara's room. And since I have four kids and you're a careful guy, I'll tell you for nothing Goren. This is one of those sticks from a pregnancy test. One looks positive to me"

"In the kids room?"

"Kids will find all sorts of stuff to play with. Did you never get given something for Christmas and then get more fun from the box?"

"Uhuh. In any case with all this" he gestured widely to the state of the whole place. "Could have got there any number of ways. What matters is what it might mean"

"That if this was used by Grace and she's pregnant we might have a motive for this boyfriend Mike or possibly Jaden if we are right about their relationship four years ago"

Goren nodded. "Think she's still alive Stabler?"

"No more than you believe she is" said Elliot quietly.

_**To be continued…**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Sunday 13****th**** June**

**_Le Tasse Du Chocolat, Chelsea_**

Goren looked at Eames looking at the last croissant on the plate, waiting for her to look back at him.

"You have it" he said the moment she did and she never hesitated to take it.

He'd never worked out whether it was her metabolism or a secret exercise regime he knew nothing about or possibly a tapeworm accounted for Alex being able to maintain such a slim shape. Especially when you saw the amount of butter and honey she was spreading on it as well.

It was too late by the time they were done to think of going home or more accurately to Caro's, for what would be a very late breakfast. And when he'd called her, using Alex's cell from the sidewalk at the scene to check in and let her know he was going to eat with his partner, he'd got the answer machine.

Eames resisted the temptation to speak until the last of the delicious croissants had melted in her mouth. Watching Goren sip his coffee and unable to stop himself making a few notes. She was inwardly making a few of her own, but not just about the case. How under one or two jibes from bloody Elliot her partner had held it together at the scene.

The _"old"_ Bobby would have barely noticed them so absorbed in what he was doing and too dignified to give it space. That was one of things that changed after his Mom died and he was obviously in trouble. He did notice such things, got almost hypersensitive at times and uncharacteristically would bite back. That he mostly ignored the remarks today was a good sign. Didn't let it turn into a pissing contest between himself and Stabler, which she and Liv would have had to put a stop to.

The other thing she noted and found rather cute was how he'd asked for her phone to call Caroline Reese. Goren wasn't the sort to ignore or forget manners very often and she hadn't imagined after this length of time it was just a casual fling. But him checking in, before suggesting they came here, indicated something. Even if they did mostly keep their noses right out of each other's personal relationships. And whatever the situation was between them he seemed to be happy, which was what mattered.

"You think after the excess of zeal in the system sent us to 25th as well as SVU, it will stay with them?" she asked him.

"Would seem to be more in their park Eames and interesting though it might be, no reason for us to sit in at the 16th with Jaden Chong this afternoon. The overtime budget for one thing"

"I suppose the fact he or rather his lawyer called in to fix a time to make a proper statement is something we should be suitably grateful for" she muttered. "Be interesting to know what he says about the nature of his relationship with Grace and the little girl"

"Doubt we'll ever hear her side of it and he knows about DNA" he shrugged.

There was a brief moment of silence between them as there often was these days at mention of that subject. Eames knew about Mark Brady. That it was possible he was Bobby's biological father and that Goren could find out one way or the other if he wanted to. During his darkest hours or worst days Alex sometimes wondered if he did know and was in part reacting to the news. That he was sired by a serial killer, and then raised by a nasty wastrel of a man and a very sick woman. Whichever was true her partner, her friend certainly struck out in the parental department.

Eames broke the silence. "With no-one meeting her description turning up yet at any hospital since Friday afternoon chances look more and more she'll turn up dead. Maybe when they find the SUV"

"Uhuh. Want another cup with froth?" He never worked out how she could stand to drink cappuccino.

"Please" Alex replied as he signalled to the waitress.

The few _"moments"_ between Goren and Elliot aside, by the time 1PP got its act together and said they could stand down the four of them were pretty much agreed on a few basic conclusions, based on the limited evidence and their experience. That Grace Webster in all probability let someone into the house or they forced their way in Friday evening once Tammy was in bed. The blood seemed likely to be hers, whether violence was the intention or the unexpected outcome. And if the disorder in the house was an attempt to cover up murder or manslaughter it was a very thorough one.

Everything pointed to a search and more so when, by the time the two of them left, there were only a few things obviously missing to indicate burglary. The hard drive only of the PC, any discs that might have been stored in a box on the cheap desk in the living room and the sort of purse you would expect a woman to use daily. The sort where she might keep a diary or day planner or notebook. The rifling of personal papers and a few work related ones also pointed to a search for some kind of information, not an object or valuables. A messy search but also one done quietly enough for the neighbour to not hear heavy furniture being moved about.

It was Stabler who said that might indicate two people not one. To lift furniture like a large dresser in the living room leaving no scuffmarks on the polished wood floor, when they cleared around it to check. Something Eames and Benson found easy to move which was rough proof it didn't follow _"two"_ meant two large guys like him and Bobby. But the equal opportunity capacity for the crime didn't detract from the one death they knew about. The only reasons in that scenario to kill the child were to shut her up from crying or as a potential witness. Which left the possibility Tammy knew her killer and at that tender age could have said a name.

"What was that you almost trod on just before we left?" enquired Eames, sprinkling chocolate on her cappuccino.

At the time it had gone through Goren's mind it was turning into his day for stepping on things. As he managed to avoid a small dark object, almost invisible amid a pile of compost. Whoever searched that house even tipped out a couple of large houseplants.

"A stone" he replied zipping his folder. "Not from the soil because it looked polished. The sort you see on craft type jewellery?"

Eames grinned. "Not about to tell me it was a piece of granite or slate and the geological period it was formed?"

He ignored a typical Eames _"tease"_ when they were not up to their necks.

"Hard to say once they are polished. But it came from something like that because there was a glue residue on it. Can't be sure I found every piece of jewellery in the master bedroom but I saw nothing it might have come from"

"You had it bagged though?" she asked quickly and then regretted it.

It was the sort of double checking she'd had to do for a while when Bobby did once or twice miss things on his worst days.

"Yes" he said quietly.

Very aware he hadn't bagged that cufflink was now wrapped in a handkerchief. It felt as if it was burning a hole in his jeans.

Eames looked at him. "I shouldn't have said that the way I did. I'm sorry Goren"

"Forget it. I understand why" he fiddled with a napkin trying to forget for a moment what he'd done and trying to focus on how the conversation was running for his partner.

"And thank you Alex. For all those times you asked when I needed those reminders. And for the ones you just did things yourself in case I didn't. Guess I'll never really know how many there were. Or how many you made right when I screwed up"

"Fewer than you might worry about Bobby" she said softly. "So don't and forget it. What a partner is for. That and letting you have the last croissant"

"Last croissant, last doughnut, biggest slice of pizza, the crunchy fries off your plate…"

She laughed. "Okay!! Enough. Just look at the junk food I must have saved you from down the years"

"One thing I'd like you tell me though" Eames continued. "What is it between you and Stabler? Did something happen? Or is it just two grizzly bears don't think there's enough room in the woods for them both to shit?"

"Interesting analogy Alex" he smiled briefly. "Yeah I'll tell you since you finally got round to asking me. Elliot Stabler blames me for the death eight years ago of a sixteen-year-old called Stacey Ridout. And at one level I blame myself for it too"

"Ridout?" Eames frowned. "Why is that name familiar?"

"Stan Ridout" said Bobby "Former desk sergeant at the 113th? Much decorated cop before he retired. But also Stacey's grandfather and Stabler's rabbi"

"Of course" said Eames. She knew of Ridout and as any cop did, the importance to a young or new officer of the senior one often took you through your first months on the force.

Goren folded his hands on the table. "I was in Narco, Elliot not long with SVU. Stacey ran away when she was fifteen and like a lot of girls like that ended up in prostitution and drugs. Despite Stan's attempts to find her and get her back"

"Saw too many of them in Vice, Bobby" said Eames. "End up in the control of the wrong men, get moved around the city or even out of state. Fake ID's and the rest make them hard to find. Even for those families who try or have the contacts like Stan had"

"Stabler came across her during a swoop they did to round up underage girls. Knew her well enough to recognise her under the paint. She threatened if he took her back home to just run away again, so he managed to get her into a project run by one of the churches. Not ideal but I don't think Ridout pride would let them sign her over to the city. Elliot acted as kind of go between, trying to keep an eye on things and it you want my opinion, fooled himself into the belief he could somehow save her"

"Often happens with Vice and SVU cops" said Eames. "Even to hard bitten and experienced officers. New chance to save the world one person at a time and when it's your rabbi's grand daughter as well you are bound to hope for the best. Fool yourself into thinking anything you take her is not being sold to put a needle in her arm before you reached the end of the street. So where did you come into the picture?"

"I was working a Joint Operation with the Feds and the DEA. The DEA had previously lost an undercover agent in Florida to one of this network and three potentially good witnesses targeted. One they dumped on the street outside a DEA officer's home to make a point, the other two vanished. Then we brought in a hooker we realised was acting as a local courier. With her when we picked her up was Stacey Ridout"

There was a long pause before he went on.

"It was obvious her ID was fake and she was underage but you know sometimes the bigger picture counts and I had no idea who she was at that time. It was my job to make sure we turned the other girl quickly and then run her until we could close on information she agreed to feed me. Stacey was often with her when we met. The day before we were due to take the operation down, our observation teams realised something was wrong. Maureen possibly blown as an informer. When we got into one of the premises she was found shot in the head in the basement"

Eames waited for Goren to swallow the last of his coffee must be cold.

"Stacey was found next day with a bullet to the head and…" he faltered. "And the rest done to her doesn't matter. Found in dumpster in the Bronx. From what anyone ever said and we can work out, they either suspected at first Stacey was the informant or used her to try to force Maureen to talk. No question she died first and we matched the bullets to a gun on one of the gang's leaders. He went down for the murders anyway"

"But you didn't know who she was Bobby"

"Yes I did. I ran Maureen a couple of months. Halfway through I found out. Something fell out of Stacey's purse one time. Picture of the family including Stan, of course I recognised. I checked the sheets and confirmed the girl I knew as Star was Stacey Ridout. Only thing I did for Stacey was save some time to get an ID when she turned up in the dumpster."

"Very little you could have done Goren" Eames muttered. "If you did anything with Stacey you could have blown the operation and our own brass would have had your nuts for a necklace. For pissing off DEA and the Feds if nothing else. And even if you had somehow got Stacey away, she could have been back on the street in no time."

"Doesn't work like that, does it? It was me should have taken care of what I knew was, _one of our own_, as the saying goes. A hero cop's granddaughter. Instead, I knowingly let an underage girl continue to whore and run with a CI we had good reason to know was in serious danger" Goren sat back. "Come on Alex. You're the one people are always reminding us has the blue in their blood. Not me"

Eames knew that was a comment thrown not just at her partner but occasionally other cops. When those from large NYPD _"dynasties"_ felt one not from the tradition, should have acted differently, because of the interests of another cop and/or his or her family. Something she tried to avoid and had never said to him herself.

"You were not the only cop worked that case and must have known. The Feds and the DEA were as involved"

"I was the most senior and those were all points I tried to make to Stabler" he shrugged. "When he discovered who had worked the NYPD angle, got hold of all the paperwork and had me pinned to the rest room wall on the fifth floor at 1PP. I found out that day, reason doesn't always work with Elliot" he glanced at her. "So I cleaned up my bloody nose and suggested he told people he walked into a door"

"You decked him?"

Goren flipped some bills on the table from the pocket of his leather jacket and snorted _"Of course I did"_.

_**To be continued…**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Monday 14****th**** June**

**_Major Case Squad Room_**

Goren gave the clock on the wall a quick glance, swivelled a little in his chair to be sure the desks closest to his own were still empty and flicked to the section of his folder contained all manner of useful numbers. Mostly work related and a few essential personal ones. Some thought he had close to a photographic memory. For some things he did, but when it came to number sequences the _"camera"_ must be using poor quality film.

Eames wasn't far off wrong when she joked he sometimes struggled to remember his number for an ATM machine or needed a phone number relaying three times. To be sure he didn't transpose two digits. But the number he was calling wasn't one he'd ever had reason to dial before, so was very deliberate to be sure he got it right. Keeping his voice low and relieved the person he wanted had arrived at his office. He kept it brief and urgent and without saying too much. Hoping because it was him, the other man would comply with his request and not force him to say too much he didn't want to risk being overheard.

Mostly, he was keeping one eye open for Eames and had just about fixed a time and place, when she came hurrying through the door from the hall. Goren put down the receiver quickly and looked up as she arrived at her desk.

"Morning" she dumped a take-out coffee on her desk. "Damn Monday traffic. Wish I could take the subway more often like you mostly do"

"I've said I'm happy to take the car home sometimes Eames" he said mildly. "I've got two parking spaces"

"No thanks. That would mean you getting to drive me occasionally. And my nerves won't stand your _NASCAR_ style and cussing of everything on wheels or legs" she muttered, remembering the first week they were together.

It might have been the last had she not taken the keys from him after four days and never let go since.

"Amazed Dr Reese lets you borrow hers"

"Caro only saw me drive off duty" he clicked open an e-mail. "Stabler has sent us a summary of where they got to yesterday"

"Good of him. What's it say?"

"Read your own copy"

"I'm busy"

Goren glanced over to see her quickly putting a comb through her blond locks and with her coffee in the other hand.

"So I see" he scanned quickly. "Seems Mr Chong junior turned up coming clean he was Tammy's father. The house rent-free was part of the child support agreement his lawyer handed them a copy of. Along with a typed itinerary of almost every minute of his time from Thursday morning to when he made his get away in that limo. With witnesses"

"Who are all kosher and check out I expect" said Eames sifting some paper on her desk.

"Funny you should say that. Elliot says eventually they dragged out of him the limo and the heavies were from the Israeli UN Delegation. Seems Jaden wasn't too keen to say where he'd been for most of the thirty six hours before he turned up in West 25th. Holed up in a family owned pied-a-terre. With a certain young lady. Very diplomatic and discrete of him"

"Bullshit" Eames muttered. "Worried about getting found out double-dipping more like. I remembered yesterday afternoon. He's supposed to be heavy, possibly engagement heavy, with Juicy Lucy…you know? The Governor's youngest. The one who is a…what do you call it…that scholarship to one of the British Ivy League places?"

"Rhodes scholar at Oxford?" he enquired scrolling down.

"That's it"

"Juicy Lucy? Double dipping? Your vocabulary amazes me sometimes Eames. But I think I know what you mean. So you read the gossip columns too" he glanced over at her.

"We all have our secret vices Goren" she glared at him. "And the Lexus?"

"That was why he called. Grace's car was in the shop…" he stopped and laughed softly. "Stabler says the lawyer said that was because Mr Chong likes to do all he can to help. But that was after Jaden said Grace is always on his back expecting bail outs"

"No love lost then?"

"Doesn't sound like it. A brief fling for a month or so and Tammy was the accidental result Chong wanted her to deal with. More or less suggested she did it on purpose for a meal ticket or stupidly thinking he'd marry someone like her"

"Not helping himself on possible motive was he?"

"Doesn't sound like it but he says if Grace does turn up pregnant it's not his. He sees as little of her as he has to and just wanted back his car should have been returned Thursday"

"Sounds right up SVU's domestic alley to sort that out" Eames shrugged. "Now my turn"

"Please" he gestured, turning away from the screen.

"We were not the only ones working overtime at the weekend. Got the phone dump for the Huntingdon's. The call Thursday afternoon was from a pay phone at the corner of Broadway and West 35th. Must only be about a million people went through there that day"

"Don't think it's worth canvassing up there for witnesses do you Eames?"

"Might turn something up Goren. You never know"

"And of course your enthusiasm would have nothing to do with the fact that's right by _Macy's _and their summer sale is on"

"Nothing at all" she turned a sheet of paper before tossing it over. "And here's the list the Huntingdon's sent down. Anyone Ralph ever beat in a sailing race by looks of it"

"And I get this because?"

"Because I'm about to call my inside guy in the Planning Department at City Hall" she smiled sweetly. "To see what word is on the credibility of that threat"

"Probably busy with Stabler and Benson wanting to know if anyone saw Grace Webster" he mused turning to run some checks on the Huntingdon's list.

Then they both looked up at each other and said in unison _"Co-incidence"._

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case Squad **_

It was Danny Ross's practice to run supervision more formally than his predecessor had done, which meant regular weekly slots for his senior detectives. It was one of those things Eames knew her partner had bridled against when Ross had arrived, Goren feeling they were being checked up on like children or even insulted they couldn't be sure how many beans made five. Whilst the Captain thought his reluctance spoke to arrogance no one could teach him anything and a degree of insubordination.

For Eames reality was somewhere in the middle. Goren with his ability to go from A to D barely touching base at B and C, didn't always realise not everyone was like that and Ross couldn't make an exception for them. Or that it was in their interest to have their backs properly covered, but then Goren always was, or used to be, more of an optimist than her. And Danny Ross took a while to realise his style was didactic at times and grated on them both.

Ask them both to relay the same dozen facts and Ross would leave you feeling you just sat through double algebra whereas Goren took you on an interesting field trip. Eames also knew she was grateful for those sessions when her partner was almost coming off the rails. The Captain's supervision helped to keep him on track in every sense. Now it was better and the only thing Goren grouched about was if Ross's decent coffee had run out by the time they got in there.

They'd cleared progress on the Schultz and the Lexington Medical cases when, with a significant glance at Eames first, Ross moved on.

"Now Kersey. Did anything happen since we spoke last?"

Goren flicked a speck off the sock on his left ankle resting on his right thigh, knowing Alex was waiting on him "No. I had one more pass through it. For me it should go on the side unless…"

There wasn't quite an audible sigh of relief from the other two as Ross said quickly, _"Okay then"._ In case Goren changed his mind.

Eames was just happy to know she could be sure her partner believed what he was saying and wasn't just saying it to avoid conflict. Goren was a superb liar when he had to be and a lethal bluffer the few times they played poker. But when Bobby was _"him"_ he was a lousy one. An innocent, almost childlike honesty at times and he'd once had her drive back five blocks, when he realised he got a quarter too much change at a hot dog stand.

Ross made a note as he said. "This Chelsea thing is gone to SVU and that leaves us the Huntingdon possible blackmail"

"We're still checking through the records of a few of those with a possible grudge Captain" said Eames. "Needless to say none have yet turned up long records for extortion. We've got permission to move on tapping the phone line at the apartment where the last call was made. And I'm meeting a contact soon to see whether the Riverside contract angle is a real runner as leverage"

"Fine. Just make sure you get an official complaint signed off by one of the Huntingdon's. Keeps our stats straight with everything comes at this Squad through the back door. I sense one of those Goren fidgets Bobby" he ended kindly.

Goren doodled on his pad. "I was just thinking it might be worth speaking to Ralph Huntingdon on his own. Don't pretend to know how you run discrete adultery in a marriage, but I'm guessing the wife doesn't know every one of his…um…temporary diversions as she called them…but there could be mileage there"

"I agree" said Ross "Just try to keep the level of disapproval low key?"

"It's me you need to say that to" muttered Eames. "Probably better if you go on your own Bobby. Lay your _all boys together_ routine on him"

Ross laughed. "Don't know I saw that one"

"You don't want to Captain" she said.

"Okay clear off you two" Ross checked his watch. "Due upstairs"

As they made for the door he was gathering papers and suddenly said. "I see that woman missing from Chelsea is in Planning at City Hall. Weird co-incidence huh?"

"_Yes Captain_" they said together.

Crossing the room Eames turned to Goren. "Want me to pick you up something to eat when I go to meet Kenny?"

"No thanks. I've got to run out lunchtime"

"All the way to Colombia?" Eames teased. "Or meeting halfway?"

"Prescription to get filled" Goren said sitting at his desk and turning to some calls he needed to make on the Shultz case.

"Okay" Eames went to the coffee machine to get them both refills.

Between speaking to Logan and Dempsey who were organising the squad _"Picnic and Family Day"_ this year, she watched Goren. Noting the fact the suit and the rest were different to Friday. Meaning he'd either been to his place over the weekend or was keeping more than jeans, t-shirt, toothbrush and clean underwear at Caroline Reese's.

_Not that she was in the least curious to know just how much time he was spending in Morningside Heights. Just noticed these things._ But mostly she wondered why Goren had lied about what he was going to do later.

_**To be continued…**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Monday 14th June **

**_The Bona Fide, Meade Street _**

When Goren entered the rather pretentious bar and grill he had left anything like the badge, gun and cuffs that marked him out as a cop in his locker at 1PP. What he was doing was strictly off the meter, could get him into serious trouble and it was instinct from his days undercover to be as unmemorable as possible. Something, not always easy for him. He asked the hostess keeping tables moving in the lunchtime rush, for one at the back. Away from the window where it was possible he and more likely the guy he was meeting, might be recognised in this part of town.

Once installed in the booth, the waitress seemed disappointed by his order of a grilled chicken sandwich (_hold the mayo)_ and orange juice. But then he wasn't like most of the customers in the place. A lawyer on an expense account and adding it to his billing time for a client.

Goren removed his shades and found himself fiddling with the small, plastic bag inside his jacket pocket. He had the moment chance came to do it discretely, properly handled the gold cuff link he found on Sunday morning. What he had not done and should have was to sign the label and be sure it was logged in.

He had deliberately removed evidence from a crime scene, a possible lead that Stabler and Benson could use in their search for the killer of an innocent child and probably her mother. Because the initials on the cufflink were not those of Jaden Chong you might have expected to have mislaid or lost one in a house he once lived in. And nor were they those of the presumed boyfriend, Stabler's summary had said was identified as a Michael McGraw.

As he sipped his juice, Goren pondered the possibility that the match to the one he had could still turn up in that house and that what he had done could be futile. If the worst came to the worst, he'd do what he had to do and take the consequences. Plead good intention. Though suddenly he remembered how Father Keene would often tell him and other altar boys caught in some scrape, _"the road to hell is paved with good intentions lads"_.

He sensed his expected companion arriving. From movement at the corner of the high backed booth and the faint waft of _Ralph Lauren Purple Label_ that had once been a regular scent in the air he breathed. Goren looked up as Ron Carver slid into the seat opposite, holding together the edges of his lightweight summer jacket. In a colour he would call _"grey/brown"_ and only tailors and women referred to as _"taupe"._ Whatever else had been turned upside down since he quit the DA's office to go into private practice, Carver was still elegant and had those precisely modulated tones as he spoke.

"Good afternoon Detective or should I say Bobby since this is not an official meeting, I assume?"

"Hello Councillor. I hope not" he replied and then kept quiet as the waitress arrived with his sandwich and Carver ordered some fancy juice concoction.

When she had gone Goren reached into his pocket.

"Does this cufflink belong to you Ron?" he asked, sliding the bag over the table. Under his palm, like it contained _Colombian Marching Powder_.

Carver looked it, looked at him, picked it up to see more closely in the dim light, put it down and perhaps sensing something from the way it was presented to him, dropped a napkin over it.

"Yes. Or at least it looks identical to one of a pair I once had. The other, if it is mine, is at home in a box with three or four others missing their companion piece"

Goren sighed inwardly that one of his fears that the second could turn up in Chelsea, was unfounded. And he'd not missed the subtle qualifications in what Carver had said. Always was a smart lawyer and though they hadn't always seen many things the same way, he always respected Ron and wouldn't have done what he did for many other people.

"Perhaps if I tell you where I found it we can narrow the field on ownership. I picked this up Sunday morning in a house on West 25th in Chelsea"

Goren saw the _"tell"_ of the hard swallow that meant something to the other man.

"An address occupied by a young woman called Grace Webster. Now is it possible that is where you mislaid your property?"

Carver cranked his neck in his pristine white shirt collar. Ron always could _"finesse"_ when he needed to, but Goren always suspected he'd be a lousy poker player with his own money. To mix card game metaphors.

"Yes" he replied quietly. "And I take it your call was to a crime scene. Not a…um…social visit"

Goren waited for the girl to leave the glass of pink/yellow juice probably had some fancy name for the shade before he spoke.

"Yes it was. Grace Webster last I heard, is missing and her three-year-old little girl was dead. Strangled and the whole place turned over in what all of us there think was a search for something"

"That's dreadful" gasped Carver, stopping the glass halfway to his mouth." You don't think I'm responsible?"

"If I did we'd be having this discussion at 1PP sir" Goren said quickly. "But it's not my case. It's with SVU and it will be Elliot Stabler and Liv Benson you might find yourself talking to"

"You removed possible evidence from a SVU crime scene"

"Quit playing the attorney with me Ron" Goren snapped. "Yes I did. Now concentrate on why I did it. Tell me you can account for where you were all day Friday and up to midnight Saturday. Preferably with reliable witnesses and even some documentary proof. And call it one of my wild hunches if you like, but I'm guessing this would be an accounting you wouldn't wish Mrs Carver to know the reason for"

The lawyer seemed to slump in the great tailoring as he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You were rarely wild Bobby and thank you"

Goren didn't much want to sit through what amounted to a _"confession"_ from Ron Carver, who offered the sort of justification and explanation you often heard from people who had cheated on their partner. Be they tales you heard in the job or occasionally from friends. But being Ron and more rarely, it was interspersed with what seemed genuine remorse and guilt. From a man with strong moral conviction Goren had always known was grounded in religious belief.

Eating a chicken sandwich while one of the men you might least have expected it from, pours out a tale of a one-night stand, might seem mundane. But he had to eat and it saved him watching Carver twisting his wedding band or looking into eyes more than once filled with tears, with anything might hint of condemnation. Made an uncomfortable situation easier on them both. What really mattered was, he believed Carver on where he had been the time in question and was content if it all came to light, he could prove it.

The _"one and only time"_ Ron had sex with Grace Webster was almost two years ago, soon after he left the DA's office. When he was having severe doubts as to the wisdom of what he'd done in terms of personal job satisfaction and what he was doing anymore for the good of more than his own bank balance.

That was the first time Goren picked up that his leaving might have been as much to do with money, under some pressure from Mrs Carver, as the known fact Carver was having problems with the direction the new DA was leaning. A chance meeting with Grace in a City Hall parking lot. After a function he'd been at and her working late. Her car would not start and Ron gave a damsel in distress some help. He followed her home in case it cut out again, which it did. On a wet night, he'd twice over got himself and his clothes _"messed up"_.

How that ended with him going into the house to wash up or have a coffee or try to sponge the worst off before it dried Carver still hadn't worked out. Or when Grace _"came onto"_ him why he responded. Until it was too late and as you might expect, guilt rapidly took over from the peace of post-coital resolution. Except Ron, who was more or less teetotal, didn't have the convenient excuse of alcohol excess so many came up with.

Nor was Carver ever sure where he lost the cufflink. Couple of days later checking the suit pockets before it went for dry cleaning, he found one but knew he'd taken them off to push his cuffs up when he was trying to fix Grace Webster's car. So it might have fallen in the parking lot or out on the street when he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands.

Carver didn't entirely forget he was a lawyer, when he added he'd never contacted her about it or for any other reason since that night or she him. He knew there was a child but she wasn't in the house at the time. Staying he thought with family in Pittsburgh.

Ron put down his juice. "You knew it was mine from the initials I guess but this has all…which I don't always…oh I remember now"

Goren nodded. "The day we were having one of our more lively discussions about a warrant for the Lundburg house. Between your office and the washroom when you were changing for court"

"I dropped one of this pair, you picked it up and said you never knew X was one of my initials" Carver smiled fractionally. "We had a short sidebar on the middle names we got given and why and then got back to arguing…I mean…debating"

"Those cufflinks bought by your Auntie Joan who was the only one ever used the X. Because your third name was for her dead husband. The secret Catholic branch of the Carver family"

"It was Jean, Bobby" he shrugged. "But am I ever glad my initials are R-A-X-C today" he paused. "And even more so for the memory of a sometimes annoying but outstanding detective"

Goren flushed. "Could I have that in writing? I might need a reference any day now"

"No you won't" said Carver kindly. "I hear still hear things. Thank you again Bobby"

"Case closed" he said standing up and feeling for his wallet. "Call it thanks for what I owe you Ron. It was appreciated. It really was"

Goren paid the bill at the register and stepped back onto the street slipping on his shades. Ronald Arthur Xavier Carver had called him at home regularly when he was at the depths of his troubles. As soon as he heard on the grapevine what was going on. It got so Ron was one of the few people he would usually pick up for. Their conversations were brief and when he was drunk or stoned, he was often dismissive and rude about Carver's somewhat home spun homilies and religion-based assurances. But unlike some, that never put him off calling again. Goren didn't know if he truly believed in the power of prayer, but having Ron tell you he was doing it on your behalf was oddly the most comforting of any who said that.

One day he might tell the lawyer that and meanwhile, if there was such a thing as debt, he'd paid a little off what he owed him. And seemed highly likely to have gotten away with what he did. A factor never to be underestimated in one chapter of the Goren playbook.

_**To be continued…**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Tuesday 15****th**** June**

_**RH Design Associates, Tribeca**_

"Hello I'm Ray. If you'd just like to wait here, I'll see if Mr Huntingdon is ready for you" said the blond man in his mid twenties. "There's _Evian_ and juices in the cooler there or I can make you some coffee or tea?"

"No thanks" replied Mike Logan as Goren shook his head.

As soon as the guy was through the door led from the reception area into the main office, Goren turned to a console table had various glossy pamphlets on it and began to flick through.

Logan opened the door of the cooler to inspect it. "Last time I was greeted like that it was at a lousy hairdresser's in The Village"

"Why do you still go there then?" asked Goren sliding some of the brochures into his folder.

"Funny and don't push your luck Bobby. I could be listening to the teenage sex romps of half the _Fortune Five Hundred_ daughters in New York right now. Instead I'm stuck with you"

"And then you wonder why that Principal requested Ross send two females to the school?"

Logan grinned, shrugged and tipped back _Evian_.

There was never any question for all Mike implied, he'd behaved in a way would have genuinely concerned the starchy lady who ran one of the most exclusive, private girl's schools in the city. But there were times you had to deal with the sensitivities of witnesses and those around them. And if Eames could help he and Wheeler to more quickly clear a line of enquiry for one of their cases, so be it.

They had been delayed rather more than expected the previous day on other cases, so it was the first chance to speak with Ralph Huntingdon to get his private take on possible blackmailer's. And these days, if Goren had to pick someone else from the Squad to briefly work with him, Logan or Megan would be his choices.

Apart from minor offences, mostly driving related and one ancient _"receiving of stolen property",_ none of the people on the list the Huntingdon's supplied together had he or Eames looking or thinking twice. Not totally surprising, since repeated blackmail convictions were very rare and so was organised extortion of the personal kind.

It tended to be a crime of opportunism, often prompted by urgent financial need or spite and mostly carried out by people with clean records and lives. A pattern of criminality Eames didn't exactly thank him for pointing out. At the time that morning when they concluded they didn't believe there was much value in starting to run deep background on the entire list.

A conclusion aided by the fact that her contact at City Hall, had rather confirmed Ralph's extra-marital activity wasn't likely to seriously damage his chances in the competition for the Riverside Mall design. Unless of course, it was the Mayor's wife he was sleeping with or Councillor Ricardo, the Chair of the Planning Committee. The latter would cause more stir simply because Ricardo was a man and as Eames said, there was no suggestion yet Huntingdon _"swung both ways"._

Goren didn't know exactly who _"Kenny"_ was and it didn't matter. If Alex said he was in a position to _"know"_ that was good enough for him. Being from one of those cop _"dynasties"_ with a long history she knew of, or knew how to get hold of, people on the inside of various organisations like FDNY and parts of City Hall. Those dynasties tended very much to interbreed with those in other public service occupations like firemen, nurses and social workers.

"Follow me please" said Ray, gesturing them through the door into one of those large open plan offices, where numerous people were working at draughtsman's boards.

_RH Design_ was located on the fourth floor of one of the nineteenth century buildings in the Tribeca District, whose initial construction had permitted a lot of the interior structure to be subsequently removed. To create the fashionable dining, shopping or office space now occupied them and not a few very expensive loft type apartments. Many of the addresses accommodating all four uses at various levels.

Apart from what looked like a glass walled conference room and a utility section, Ralph Huntingdon's office was the only other private space as he and Logan were shown in. The _"victim" _was one of those regularly handsome sorts of men, who dressed a little _"young"_ for his age and whom Goren knew from the formal complaint form, was five years younger than his wife.

He gestured them to chairs matched the black steel and glass decorative theme as Goren became aware of Ray. Still hovering and about to shut the door so he was inside with them.

"Thanks Ray" said the older man with a wave of his tanned forearm and _Cartier _watch.

Goren turned in time to see a faint hint of annoyance on Ray's face before he said. "Don't forget you've got the Johnson's at three Dad"

"He's your son?" he gestured at the door as it closed.

"Yeah" was the reply.

In a tone didn't suggest that totally thrilled Ralph Huntingdon, a fact Goren filed away as he sat. Always possible he supposed Ray had earned disapproval over something just before they arrived but he was sure the mother never mentioned Ray when they spoke to her, as either living with them or being part of the business. But it did pique his curiosity what Ray did or did nor know about either the attempted blackmail or his father's infidelities. Something he set aside as he turned his head to what Eames called _"the all guys together routine"._

One it was perfect to have Mike Logan part of. In the _"Lothario Stakes"_ Logan was probably way ahead of him or at least a damn sight more open about it. Just like working with Alex, Mike was able to pick up the ball and run with the right questions at times, enabling him _"to wander"_ as his partner called it. This time not to disconcert Huntingdon, they had no reason to assume wasn't a genuine victim. But getting up to admire his sailing trophies, while he gave Logan a run down of _"his type",_ gave Goren chance to also look into the outer office.

Ralph's scorecard of always single, usually much younger mistresses averaged about six months and they knew the score from the outset. That he was never going to leave Elizabeth and as Goren had suspected, in addition to _"affairs"_ there were one night stands, neither she nor the mistress of the moment knew about. Huntingdon was writing a list of names for the last year or so of those, while he was admiring the model for the Riverside Mall and watching Ray do some photocopying. Rather confirming his earlier impression his input to the firm wasn't as an architect, since he never went near a drawing board, the model builder in the corner or the large drawer units built to hold plans.

Mike took the sheet of headed paper from him as Goren smiled and asked if any of Huntingdon's extra curricular activities were with men. The reply of _"Why? Are you interested Detective?"_ tested Logan's ability to keep a straight face for a second. But the genial tone it was said and the follow up he understood why Goren asked, got them through that. With _"No"_ being the answer.

They saw themselves out to the elevator where Mike handed him the list, which Goren put quickly into his folder to answer his phone.

"Head for _Macy's_" he said snapping it off as they got out at the first floor. "There's been another call to the Dakota Building, looks like it's tracking to uptown"

"I came to ride shotgun, Bobby" shouted Logan as they dashed for his car. "Not act as your freaking taxi service"

_**To be continued…**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Tuesday 15****th**** June**

_**Broadway/West 34th**_

Goren and Logan managed to restrict their bickering to one brief incident on the journey north, travelled mostly on the lights and siren. Bickering prompted by Goren's attack of impatience between making and taking calls. When they got jammed up and he suggested had Logan taken Sixth, they might not have this problem.

Only to be asked _"Do you do this with Alex?"_ and when the answer was _"No"_, to be told to _"So shut the deleted expletive up then"._ Except Logan didn't waste time on the deletion.

Neither of them expected to find a blackmailer when they arrived at their final destination. Despite the instructions given to the Huntingdon's and assuming Elizabeth followed them. It took skill to keep someone on a line while it was being traced, civilians were untrained and anxious and any criminal worth the label would expect it to be happening and act accordingly.

Even amateur ones and Goren blamed TV cop shows for both putting ideas and knowledge into the heads of the criminally inclined and creating silly expectations in some victims. Who seemed to think you could come along with a magic piece of hardware or some stunning insight and have their crime solved in forty-seven minutes. Or an hour if you allowed for the ad breaks.

A couple of uniforms were on the scene standing by a bank of four phones. As they walked over Goren was getting the news from their technical people the officers missed whoever it was, by about two minutes. But the call today was from the same group of phones if not the precise one as last Thursday.

The younger of the two officers stepped forward to say "You Goren?" and to tell him there was no one around here with a sign on their back said, _"I'm a blackmailer"_. Nor had one or two people they had spoken to seen one.

"What was your major in son?" asked Logan, hands on hips. "Sarcasm to a superior officer?"

Goren wasn't concerned Mike stepped over him a little, as the muttered reply was "No sir".

Quickly followed by assurance that he'd not allowed anyone to touch it since they arrived. He and Logan looked at each other knowing they were both wondering if it was worth printing. And getting the almost certain grumpy response from CSU. If they were up to their ears either in the field or in the labs, they liked nothing more than a fool detective thought they had nothing better to do than print and run checks on something like a public telephone. Handled by hundreds a day in a location like this.

"Detective Goren?" said the older officer. "I just noticed something or someone might help"

"Anything Officer Page" he shrugged.

"See across the street? The little old lady on the bench? She's known round here as Marge though I don't know if that's her real name. Not a panhandler, a drunk or homeless. Just a bit weird if you get me?"

"Yeah I do"

"She often spends hours there or one or two other places. One of her…obsessions I guess you might call them…is phones. She's been known to have a cloth in her bag and come along and clean them. I once had to move her on from stopping people using some a few blocks away" the cop shrugged. "Could be your best chance of some information. If you've got the time it might take"

"Thanks Officer. Never underestimate the value of a good beat cop huh?" he gave his back a slap and at the same time, symbolically slapped the face of his cheeky partner. "Care to introduce me to Marge?"

The guy looked at his feet. "I would Detective but she's got Poochy with her today. Poochy doesn't like me and if he takes against you Marge won't really talk to you when he's there" he paused. "The little shit once bit my ankle"

Goren heard Logan's snort of laughter behind him as Page said, "Perhaps Poochy will like you sir?"

"I'm sure it will be love at first sight Bobby" grinned Mike. "I'll call CSU for you"

Goren shoved his folder in Logan's hand, remembered to thank him and crossed the street with confidence. He liked dogs, dogs generally liked him and at least he wasn't allergic to them like he was to bloody cats. Only trouble was he had a dark suit on and if he had to_"make nice"_ with Poochy he was liable to be left covered in white hair. The fluffy head of what looked like a cross between a Papillon and longhaired Chihuahua peeked out from one of two baskets on the seat beside Marge.

Keeping his distance initially, not to scare her or the dog he showed her the badge slowly and said "Hello. My name's Bobby. Hello Poochy. I'm a policeman"

All seemed to be going well as Marge responded, said she'd like a chat and invited him to sit down. Goren later concluded Poochy must have timed it to perfection, because the very next second he exploded from the basket. Flying at him like a one-headed Cerberus and aiming right at his crotch. Could swear he heard needle teeth snap together as he found himself badge in one hand and instinctively, genitals in the other.

Luckily, Poochy of the Baskervilles was on a leash looped round Marge's wrist as he was jerked back and to the ground a fraction of an inch from his target. Where he began to yap and the old lady took that as a signal and began to call out for help. Like he was some kind of pervert or purse-snatcher. To such an extent as Goren backed off, people began to give him nasty looks until they saw the badge. As he beat a tactical retreat back over the street, Poochy had stopped yapping and was licking his balls. While Logan was doubled over with laughter seeing how close he came to nearly losing his. To something the size of a kid's teddy bear.

But at least when Mike stopped laughing, he offered to go and try himself. Goren dismissed the two patrol cops and stood for fifteen minutes. Guarding the phone and making himself unpopular with the citizens who wanted to use one. Because one of the four wasn't working and there was a steady stream for the other two.

It was very hot and he was the sunny side of the street. Logan was in the shade and Poochy's new best friend. Thanks to making paper balls for the dog to play with from his folder. His own heart rate and a shrinking feeling in another part of his anatomy, meaning he'd not thought to ask for it back before Mike crossed over.

There were two consolations. At the end of the fifteen minutes Eames and Wheeler pulled up to retrieve their erstwhile partners. Eames' suggestion they'd come to rescue Mike from him wasn't entirely necessary. As Goren indicated, it was Poochy that Logan really needed help with. The second consolation being by then the dog was firmly attached to Mike's right leg and showing no signs of letting go. While Logan tried to pretend he hadn't noticed or it didn't bother him.

The only downside as Mike and Megan drove off, was that they were going to get back to 1PP first. Logan's version of events that afternoon would be all around the eleventh floor and probably those above and below, before they even saw signs to the parking level they were assigned.

But the wait for CSU gave him time to brief his partner on his impressions of Ralph Huntingdon and the business of this son. It was Eames threw in a wild idea it was always foolish to dismiss straight away. _That with the same initials was it possible there was some confusion?_Goren could see her point. An _R Huntingdon_ some place with someone he should not be with and some opportunist thought it was the better-known Ralph. In the news because of the controversial Riverside scheme.

Logan's encounter with Marge and Poochy had not been totally wasted time. It seemed one of her other obsessions was making notes. So one of the notebooks almost filled the second basket, was the one for that day. Marge had written down the time she _"cleaned"_ that bank of phones and made notes about _"suspicious"_ people using them. She would not let Logan have them, but if she was right about the time, Marge had wiped the telephone in question about half an hour before the call. Probably reducing the number of false lead prints CSU would find. Her definition of suspicious seemed to include anyone wearing red.

Given the colour of Goren's tie that day, it might explain a lot. But the old lady was also sure about a man by any definition _"unusual"._ Someone after she cleaned and before the police arrived, used one of the telephones with his jacket collar pulled right up, dark glasses and a black hat, not of the sun sort, pulled low.

It wasn't until they were back in the cool of their own SUV heading south and leaving CSU at the telephones, Goren got chance to find inside his folder, the list Huntingdon wrote.

"Alex?" he said softly. "One of these names of women Ralph bedded once or twice is Grace Webster"

_**To be continued…**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Tuesday 15****th**** June**

_**RH Design Associates, Tribeca**_

"Ugh!! What a creep" muttered Eames as they watched Ralph Huntingdon return inside the building that housed his office.

When they arrived, he was personally showing two people out and it was easy to work out why, when they got into a chauffeur driven _Rolls Royce._ So their swing by, en route to 1PP, resulted in a brief discussion on the sidewalk.

How he'd met Grace Webster in the course of his work often involved visits to the Planning Department. Flirted with her a few times, asked her to dinner and had sex with her one time about three months ago. Thinking of that positive pregnancy test they found at the house and not knowing what SVU had discovered about that, Goren had asked if they used birth control.

According to Ralph he'd had a vasectomy more than twenty years ago but always used a condom. _"Surely you've heard about safe sex Detectives?_ They had little choice but indicate Grace was missing. That seemed genuinely to come as a surprise to him. His only contact with her after that was to send her a gold bracelet a few days later. In a package to City Hall and it wasn't at the house they had sex.

"Which part?" asked Goren. "The fact he seems to have a regular order at_ Midtown Gold_ for his post conquest gifts or that we now know, thanks to Ralph's helpful advice, you don't need a bed to make out?"

"Either. Both. Any of it" growled his partner. "Though that would seem to fit the bracelet you saw at the house Sunday"

"We'll call Benson or Stabler when we get back" he said, getting into the SUV. "But there's something else Eames"

_**Office of the Captain, Major Case Squad**_

"It doesn't matter whether Alex agrees with you or not Bobby. Indulge me for once. Just run with what they taught you in_ Detection 101_ " said Danny Ross very firmly.

"But you see it too?"

"Didn't say I didn't" shrugged the other man. "When you put together what Eames' contact says and the phone business, the blackmailer doesn't suggest a very smart person. But don't wear more holes in the carpet on it just yet. "

Goren quit the pacing by the window, turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"I'll get you help to do some digging though"

"Thank you Captain" he said over his shoulder.

_Was sometimes worth getting hit by a pitch to get a walk._ That was why he went to see Ross. Got what he and Eames really needed, without too much hurt and without asking.

As Goren sat down his partner looked up. "I heard. One day he's going to work out one of the reasons you pull that seriously distracted routine. When you are not seriously distracted I mean"

"You can do it next time and how do you know I'm not Eames?"

"I know the look Goren. Women know these things"

He glowered over their desks at her.

"I know that means to quit while I'm ahead" she laughed. "And by the way. Liv says _thank you_ to us for saving them some legwork on that bracelet. None of the friends or family of Grace Webster they tracked down knew where that came from. And it looks like the boyfriend might not have skipped out Saturday morning in a hurry. Seems he was due to go with one of his art class groups for a few days painting. Their problem now is where. They've got State Troopers and Park Rangers upstate on the look out for him"

"They still see him as a suspect then?" he asked turning pages in his folder.

"Have to"

Eames suddenly grinned. "If it makes you feel any better Goren I can see Mike still trying to get dog hair off his pants"

He turned round to see Logan using a month's supply of sticky tape wrapped round his hand.

_**Riverside Park (near Grant's tomb)**_

Goren packed away the last of the picnic supper and lay back on the grass.

"Great idea" he said. "To come here Caro"

"Want an iced lolly? I'll go get you one"

"No thanks. That one seems to be turning your tongue blue"

She stuck it out at him to confirm his suspicion and went briefly cross-eyed checking for herself.

"I hate to think what's in the colouring and flavourings they put in these things to make frozen water taste and look cherry. Or an approximation of it"

"Doubt one will give you cancer or allergies" he said mildly, reaching for her left hand and taking it.

"Hmm. So the head finally switched off work did it?"

"Pot and kettle Dr Reese. Don't recall I was getting a lot of sense last week about what you wanted me to do for dinner. When you had those numbers someone crunched for you on your mind"

"That was different Rob"

"How?"

"Because it was you cooking dinner your place, not me coming back into my kitchen to find rice boiling over because your head was stuck in your notes" she laughed.

"Hypocrite" he turned more on his side to look at her sucking rather noisily on the lolly.

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"What's going through your head now"

"So stop…doing that…eating that thing…that way" he muttered,

Hoping in the light of the sun setting his blush wouldn't be obvious. And concluding once and for all the mind reading abilities of all women must come with two X chromosomes.

"I'm practicing" Caro giggled.

"I'll have to think of something else for you to practice on" he murmured shifting against her, wrapping his arm round her, sliding one thigh between hers and nuzzling her neck.

"That will take you all of a nanosecond" she kissed his lips softly with slightly blue and cold ones.

"You're right" he said briskly. "I thought of something. Now leave that and let's get back to your place right now. I would suggest here but I'd have to arrest myself for a public indecency"

**_To be continued…_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Wednesday 16****th**** June**

_**EZ-Print, West 34th**_

Eames went into the front of the print shop waving her badge and asking loudly for Chris Hawkins. The girl at the desk did not need to point him out. He was the unshaven, rat faced, skinny guy making quickly for the back exit, as she stepped around the counter and made her way between numerous photocopiers and other print equipment.

One of the reasons Goren _"took one for the team"_ yesterday was to get the backing of Ross to persuade CSU to run quickly, the fingerprints from the phone used to call the Huntingdon apartment in the Dakota Building. Eames shared his doubts about the case and what was really going on. But Bobby prodding him with a few_"left field ideas"_ had done the trick. Made him uncertain. And when Ross was uncertain about Goren he tended to act.

So they got the information more quickly that the only set in the system belonged to Hawkins. Who had a rap sheet as long as your arm for a string of minor offenses including illegal gambling and most interesting to them, attempted extortion and criminal damage. A few years back but he still had a few weeks of his current parole to run. And worked very close to _Macy's._

As she stepped into the small back yard Hawkins was firmly in Goren's embrace and not looking like it was one he was much enjoying. But he'd quit struggling as with Eames' help several pieces of paper_"fell out"_ of his pockets.

She called the number on one of them and said she wanted fifty bucks on the nose of number three for the next race at Belmont. When the guy the other end asked who the hell she was and how she got this number, her reply was _"Detective Eames, NYPD"_. Eames finished second in the race to end the conversation.

But it achieved two things. It almost certainly threw a spanner in the works of illegal activity and they now had Chris Hawkins' undivided attention. Fearing for his parole and his associates discovering how a cop came by that number, he was remarkably co-operative. Just a pity both she and Goren believed he never heard of _"these Huntingdon people"_ though it had all the hallmarks of his previous botched attempt at extortion.

Eames almost had a grudging admiration for a guy who would take laxatives and then threaten his local taco take away with a wild story of food poisoning. If they didn't give him fifteen hundred bucks to stop him going to the media. The sum he owed a bookie at the time.

Goren was probably right. Hawkins taking with him a polythene bag filled with the _"proof"_ was never a good idea. And throwing it on the floor, when the owner didn't immediately reach into the cash register, a worse one.

They agreed Sheriff John Bunnell would have loved to get his hands on the tape capturing that particular crime.

_**Interview Room 2, Major Case Squad**_

Goren pressed the play button on the tape machine again as the door opened.

"You must know that off by heart now" said Eames handing him a sandwich bag. "Kathy made it fresh when she knew it was for you of course"

"Thanks" he switched off the machine and opened the bag. "There's a banana in here"

"You eat bananas" his partner shrugged. "You even learned to peel them now. I brought it to help with your oral fixation. You can put that in your mouth, suck on it and save you sneaking off for a smoke later"

He glowered at her. "Since when did you become a Freudian Eames?"

"Since you enthralled me with his theories all the way back from Westchester County one time. Including why my potty training explains a lot about me" she replied. "Remember now?"

"Nnng" Goren swallowed "And the threat to leave me behind at that rest stop if I didn't shut up"

"Worked didn't it?" Eames smiled as she finally turned to some paper in her hand. "Want to hear the dirt on the Huntingdon's, Faith and I dug up while you were talking to the forensic accountant on the Lexington thing?"

She took him biting into the sandwich as assent.

"We knew since his name in the company brochure is Whistler that Raymond was probably not Ralph's kid. But Mrs H did not begin life with a silver spoon in her mouth. More a rivet hammer. In Oakland, California the daughter of a fitter. Had Raymond, father not specified, when she was twenty-two"

Eames tried not to pause too long given the issue around Goren's paternity and still clueless as to what, if anything, he ever did about that. He was very easy to read on some things but like a closed book other times.

"Then a year later, would you believe, she won the California lottery" Eames snorted. "Cleared a cool one hundred and ninety million and loose change"

"Somebody has to win a lottery" Goren said mildly, picking up the other half of his sandwich.

"I never do"

"Because you never buy a ticket Eames" he replied. "So I take it we now know where the money really is in that marriage?"

"We do. Ralph might be one of _"the"_ Huntingdon's but he's from a very minor branch and a poor one at that. I doubt his family owned a row boat and a garden shed in Newport before Lizzy Whistler came along with her roll over millions, never mind a summer home and a yacht"

Eames turned to another sheet. "And speaking of roll overs she and Ralph were married after a whirlwind romance on the ski slopes of Colorado two years later. He had only just turned twenty"

"He had the name and foothold into high society and she had the means to pay for it" said Goren picking a bit of stringy beef from his tooth with his fingernail.

"Money and class" said Eames. "Something you'll never have picking your teeth like that. There are no kids from the marriage by the way. Weird a guy in his mid twenties getting a vasectomy…anyway…Raymond might have attended college a few semesters but we didn't find evidence he graduated yet. And Dempsey picked something up suggested_ RH Design_ is not the first company Ralph had. Possible another failed a few years back"

"I'll go check it out in the reference section at the _Architect's Society_ this evening" Goren offered.

"Nothing better to do tonight?" Eames teased as she stood up.

"Did it last night" he glanced at the clock. "Ready to go see Lily Schultz again in twenty?"

"Uhuh. Enjoy your banana Bobby. Just don't try to inhale it"

_**The Architect's Society**_

Goren stood on the steps smoking the last few puffs of only his fourth cigarette that day and getting a _"head rush"_. One that had switched from the initial, unpleasant sensation after hours of nicotine deprivation to the nice part. He'd considered, as he had last time he quit, using patches or gum but they didn't really break you of the physical addiction. He was successful once so he should be again. And still smoking a little had proved useful.

For outside, he'd fallen into conversation with another smoker. Another architect in the library doing some research and Goren had spun him a yarn he seemed to believe. Which meant he now had a lot of useful information of the inside kind about Ralph Huntingdon. Admittedly some of it _"gossip"_ but that was not to be underestimated and it might shorten his time inside.

Enough to get him home to catch the last few innings of the _Mets _game from Atlanta and once you were off the clock there was a limit to the time you gave the city of New York for free. At least that was Goren's aim these days. To keep the work/life balance in far better proportion than he once had. He loved the city of his birth and had always known, Mom's illness aside, he'd return when he was done with the Army. That had been good times, some fascinating places, mostly great people and interesting work.

But he wasn't going to let New York, its crime and its criminals play such a part in almost destroying him again. Eating away at him physically, spiritually and emotionally and over a long time. He felt he had more choices, more options now. More ways in which to complete the reconstruction of Robert Goren. So no doors were closed to him as he stubbed out the cigarette and opened the one to return inside.

_**To be continued…**_


	14. Chapter 14

**Thursday 17****th**** June**

_**CSU Laboratories**_

"I think you need to have a linguistics expert hear this tape Bobby" said Lynn De Salle. "Someone who is an expert in speech patterns. All I can say is the same as you and Alex. It's a very…um…unnatural conversation when two people never talk over each other even once. Especially in the context of one like this when you would expect hesitation and even more repetition"

She was one of the unit's best technicians in the area of sound as she played some of the conversation between Elizabeth Huntingdon and _"unknown male"_ again.

"And I know she was briefed but…" she ran a section back. "She doesn't come over exactly scared or worried does she? And you know my equipment can't tell you that for sure"

"No but do you think you can work some of your magic on the background noise to what he's saying Lynn?" Goren asked. "See if it's possible our victim was responding to a tape being played down the line. I'm sure I can hear clicking sounds"

"Listen to something often enough Bobby and you'll think you can hear the _Mormon Tabernacle Choir_" she muttered. "Why don't you just get a search warrant or go raking in the trash at the Dakota Building? See if you can find her half of the script you think this is based on"

"With what?" Goren frowned. "The suspicions of two or three cops something is strange about this case is all we have and they don't just give you warrants like candy these days. But if you could find something with your equipment you would give me something to work on. With a judge or her"

He lowered his voice. "And you do have great equipment Lynn"

"If you hadn't stood up me up twice Bobby maybe you'd have got the chance to find out just how great. As it is you left it kind of late" she waved her left hand sported a nice diamond.

"Congratulations" he said. "John's a very lucky man"

"It's James but good try" she laughed. "I dumped John three months after you. Now get out of here Bobby. Before I forget I have a final fitting for my dress tomorrow and decide you might fit the bill for my final fling as a single woman"

Goren left trying to remember just how long ago it was he took Lynn to some movie he couldn't remember either. Just knew he'd had to take a rain check on the second date and the third thanks to a crisis with his Mom and when he finally surfaced from it, she'd got tired of waiting.

In the hall, Elliot Stabler was coming from the lab opposite with a folder in his hands. They stopped and looked at each other while they worked out what to say.

"Hi Goren" the other man nodded to where he'd come from. "Is that Antonelli guy in there?"

"No"

"Damn. Must have gone for lunch then" Stabler grouched. "Don't you just love it when these people identify something for you and leave you clear as mud what it means? But I suppose that's a problem you never have?"

"Yes…um…I mean no…of course it happens to me. But tell me something in return Elliot. Don't you find it tiring after all these years? Maintaining your indignation with me I mean?"

The SVU detective stared at him for a long moment. "I think the older I get it takes more out of me"

Goren shoved his hands in his pockets. "I guess that's progress then. Who knows Elliot? Come time for us both to draw our pensions we might achieve civility"

"Don't count on it Bobby" said Elliot his face almost cracking into a smile.

"I won't. So how are you doing with the Webster case?"

"That is what this is about. I was passing through on something else so thought I'd pick up the results of various tests. We picked up Mike McGraw, the boyfriend, last night. Or rather the State Troopers did"

"Look good for it?"

"Nah" said Stabler unwrapping gum and shoving it in his mouth.

"Came willingly. Broke down when we told him Tammy was dead…really loved that little girl…worried sick about Grace but disillusioned I think. And his alibi for the TOD checks out. He was working a shift behind a reputable bar at the time. Just co-incidence he left for this trip Saturday morning which made him look guilty and making a run for it"

"He say anything about the baby? Or the one we think might have been on the way"

"Uhuh. That's what the fight with Grace was about on the tenth. He saw the test kit packaging in the bathroom trash. She is…was…" Stabler paused.

"Whichever it turns out I think he was just puzzled at first she never told him she thought she might be pregnant. Until in the middle of him being all excited and planning their future together, he realised she didn't necessarily see things that way. Whether she'd even keep the baby"

"Good reason for the loud argument the neighbour heard then"

Stabler chewed enthusiastically for a second or two. "No question. Various things also point to the idea that your architect might not have been the only guy Grace stepped out with since she's been seeing McGraw. It's one obvious explanation for what different people are saying about some change in her behaviour patterns. And with everything that has happened and the benefit of hindsight, I think even McGraw might be wondering if the baby is his after all"

"Wonderful thing hindsight" said Goren softly.

"Isn't it just" sighed the SVU detective "So did you find…"

His cell ringing cut him off. "Excuse me"

Goren automatically reached out his hand to take Elliot's file. Leaving him free to take the call and extract a notebook and pen from his jacket, he rested on a trolley loaded with supplies. While Stabler was speaking Lynn came from the lab. Telling him as she crossed over the hall, she'd tracked down a linguistics specialist she knew. Would do them a favour and listen to his tape and this was the last one she was doing him. She must have told him that at least six times before.

Stabler shut off his phone. "Looks like we might have found the white Lexus SUV. Down in Chinatown with a distinctive smell coming from the trunk"

"Looks like you might have found Grace Webster as well Elliot"

"You busy right now Bobby?"

"Of course not Stabler" he muttered. "I work Major Case remember"

"I'm being serious Goren. Liv has gone out to McGraw's place in Brooklyn at his invitation. There are a few of Grace's things over there to be looked through"

"I'll need my permission slip signing by Eames" he said as the two of them headed for the elevators.

"I'll forge it for you Goren. My kids do it all the time"

_**To be continued…**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Thursday 17****th**** June**

_**Pell Street, Chinatown**_

The Lexus SUV, minus its registration plate but with no other attempt to _"disguise"_ it, was parked in the rear yard of a shop premises that were to let. When Goren and Stabler arrived there were a couple of patrol cars in the alley and a small truck with three guys hanging about. Dressed in coveralls it was they who called it in.

Sent by the landlord to redecorate inside, unable to get their vehicle in the space and looking round it, the missing plate, the smell when you got near the rear end and a sheet of plastic covering the drivers seat set them wondering. As Elliot did a quick check that the general description and one or two other things Jaden Chong had said about his car made it distinctive applied, Goren sent two of the uniforms off to see what they could find out. Like who in surrounding premises might know when the SUV arrived?

Stabler and one of the patrol officers dealt with the lock and as soon as the driver's door opened, a rich scent of death burst from inside. Warm because the air inside might have been trapped for days when temperatures were in the nineties. Fetid as the by-product of the bacteria, which begin to multiply as soon as the immune system stops working and with a sweetness Goren always assumed was down to the sugars produced. Popping the lever for the rear door resulted in the same, but more so as the three of them, including an experienced cop had seen his share of such things, waited a moment or two. For the initial explosion of stench to dissipate.

Goren borrowed the larger flashlight the uniform had from the patrol car and shone it for better illumination. The body lay on its side, back to them and in a foetal position. Stabler took a few shots with the digital camera they all carried these days. It meant they had evidentiary material captured at the moment of revelation should he or Goren fractionally move anything.

The body was bloated which distorted the features but when they leaned over, the skin tone, gender and what you could estimate about age was right for Grace Webster.

Stabler stopped his nervous chewing. "See the necklace Bobby?"

"Uhuh" he was concentrating on the extremities like nose and fingers.

"The _G_ initial fits with what we've been told by family and friends she mostly wore and the knife handle buried in the chest there matches that fancy set at the house. How many wounds do you make?"

"Ten or a dozen including these defensive ones on the one arm we can see. Fits the blood pattern at the house but…" he glanced at the SVU detective.

"I'm thinking the same. The level of decomp and gunk in here doesn't fit with a body been dead a week in these temperatures. Now way would she have lived a day or two with these injuries, their location and this amount of blood on the clothing plus what was on the floor" said Stabler "And see the other marks?"

"I do" said Goren "Burning. Of the sort you get from ice. I think Grace was in a cold store or a freezer at some point"

"Me too" said Stabler quietly. "Time I saw this most was…was Kosovo, Bobby. Mass graves or victims left exposed through winter"

Goren glanced over at him "You too? Never knew"

"We never exactly exchanged stories did we?"

He frowned suddenly at something the flashlight caught. "Elliot. See that? Is it the patterning on the blouse?"

Stabler leaned closer. "No looks like a piece of paper…no I can't reach it and I don't want to move her too much. Can you?"

Goren tried with his fingers and failed "Take this".

He handed the torch to Stabler and pulled a couple of pencils from his pocket to act as tweezers. It was fiddling, but he managed to slide the paper from between the victim's shoulder and the lip of the cargo space.

"Register receipt" he said looking at it in sunlight "Six months ago at The Village Store, Wildwood…"

"Long Island?" spluttered Stabler before Goren could finish.

"Seems so. North coast isn't it?"

"Yes. No credit card number I take it? Something could make things nice and simple?"

"Why they call us Detectives. Cash purchase" Goren said mildly and reaching for an evidence bag in his pocket. "Look for someone who likes French-fries, four cheese pizza and washes their hair in _Stay Shine_"

"You just described my eldest daughter"

They left the body and went to the front of the vehicle where Goren opened the passenger door.

"This look recently detailed to you Elliot?"

"Uhuh" he rubbed his gloved hand over the driver's seat under the sheet of plastic. "This is dry but you might expect that. Do I smell a detergent? Hard to tell with the rest"

"No I smell it too. And with the blood likely to be on the killer when they got in the car, my guess is that plastic was to stop any fibre transfer back onto the seat after cleaning. Only covering the driver's seat though"

Stabler frowned "So if there were two people at West Street and Grace went out to Long Island for a few days, was in a freezer and then came back, probably only one person did that. Why the hell bring her back? Why not toss her in the Atlantic or abandon the car and her out there?"

"Too much of a pointer to the Island perhaps. That receipt transferred onto the body, probably frozen to the blouse and just didn't get spotted. But I was thinking about that too" said Goren opening the glove box and checking the contents. "Why Chinatown? Why not Queens or Brooklyn if you're coming from LI? Only thing I came up with so far it was a clumsy attempt to point towards Jaden Chong. This is his old man's District"

"It is. Not only that Bobby the headquarters of that corporate hospitality and events business Jaden runs is just round the corner on Mulberry" Stabler stood hands on hips and chewing. "And how would I know he was safely alibied by Mossad or whoever they were at the time?"

Goren snorted as the ME's van and CSU truck drew up in the narrow alley. "Don't mention Mossad or you'll have me thinking the sort of thoughts Eames tells me I should keep to myself"

They opened the rear doors together. "You were in the Special Investigation Unit I heard" said Stabler.

"Eventually"

Almost in perfect synch they were shining light under the front seats, lifting the rear foot well mats and looking in into every nook and cranny.

"Did my share of bar brawls and whorehouse clear outs around USFK camps before that"

"Surprised we never met sooner" grinned Stabler. "Would have given me reason to not like you for longer Goren"

"Just bad luck all round I think you'd call it" Goren was bending over looking at the tyres and wheel arches. "Don't get the impression this has been through a car wash, do you?"

"No" said Elliot working his way to the front. "There's been no rain so these what look like water marks and sand residue suggests it's either been on a beach or maybe up a track to one of those summer home places? Would fit with parts of Long Island"

"Could be. What do you make of this Elliot?"

The other man came round to where a few tufts of grass had got stuck where the fender met the front panel.

"Marram grass?" he mused pulling it out. "Don't look so shocked. I'm not a botany geek. Kathy had an environmental science project to do last semester, so I learned a lot about coastal vegetation. How different species colonise in turn"

"Nice thing about having kids" said Goren softly. "Getting to do those things with them"

"Yeah it is" they stood up together.

"Though the age they got they answer back now. And when your sixteen year old says, _"See? This is what is meant by a climax Dad"_ you know full well she's just trying to wind you up more than explain a stable community of plant life in...what is it...consistent environmental conditions. That's what a climax is, right?"

"Ask your wife" shrugged Goren.

Stabler laughed. "Maybe you are not such an uptight, know all, nut-job after all Goren"

"Oh I am. Now go sort out the troops Stabler. This is your body dump not mine"

"Where are you going?"

"For a smoke" he called as he went along the alley. Deciding not to tell Stabler he might be able to help one of the cops trying to get sense from an elderly lady, whose first language seemed to be Cantonese.

_**To be continued…**_


	16. Chapter 16

**Friday 18****th**** June**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Eames knew Ross had not exactly bawled Goren out about what he described as his _"escapade"_ yesterday when he headed off with Elliot Stabler, but neither had he been best pleased about it when he returned. Pointing out rather firmly the finding of Grace Webster's body was of very marginal interest to their caseload. And if Bobby and Stabler wanted to do any_"male bonding"_ they should stick to other times and places. Over a beer at _Roark's_ or a ball game like everyone else.

It wasn't as if her partner had not sent word, was gone more than hour or was off enjoying himself. Though Eames knew at one level he was and not because he had a ghoulish or morbid fascination with the dead. To Goren, a body was just the source of the first clues, the first few steps on the trail and more than once what he saw there stopped them heading off on false ones. Murders made to look like suicides or something else not _"quite right"._ It was hardly his fault his prior training, experience and knowledge equipped him better than many cops to know what they were looking at.

Just bad luck he was AWOL the very second that Ross wanted to speak to him. Resulting in the lustre being taken off what was good news. A call from Jack McCoy to say the jury took less than two hours to find Roger Day guilty of murder. And Eames suspected Ross really had something else bugging him anyway.

Her partner sat down opposite her with that look on his face. Not the sort of _"I told you so"_ could be so infuriating with some people when they were proved right, but one hard to define.

"Now why do I think that's not a letter from the Chief granting you and I six weeks paid leave in Barbados?" Eames enquired. "But something made you almost as happy Goren?"

"More" he said rolling his seat forward. "You're going to Barbados and they're sending me to Antigua"

Eames let that go; just glad they could say such things again.

"This is from Lynn" he said. "In the labs?"

"I know who you mean Goren. And?"

"And she says she's been able to identify background noise on that call to Mrs Huntingdon that are consistent with a tape recorder. The sound of what might be spindles turning and it being switched on and off"

"_Consistent_ and _might _don't rule out other things though"

"I know"

There was a hint of disappointment as he rested his chin in his hand to scan the report again. "Why use a tape though?"

Eames leaned forward and held up one finger. "To help disguise the voice. Two? The voice on the tape is not the real blackmailer because she would recognise them…"

"Now that's an interesting idea…a proxy…"

Goren stopped as Ross came to their desks. He did not look happy.

"Are you two still working on ways of trying to prove the Huntingdon's are not really the victims of blackmail?"

"Not exactly Captain" replied Eames.

"Good" he snapped. "Because twenty minutes ago the body of Ralph Huntingdon turned up shot dead in his car. Parking lot of the _Mirabar Hotel_"

Goren puzzled. "Shot?"

"That's what I said. Now the pair of you get yourselves up there" he somewhat slapped the despatch notice on Eames' desk.

"Then come straight back here. And have ready a very good explanation of how a victim of a crime the pair of you were supposed to be dealing with ends up dead. It's likely to be more than me will be asking that question"

As he stomped off there was a fractional silence around them. Ross hadn't yelled but others heard. One of those embarrassed silences in which your colleagues feel sorry for you and at the same time relieved. That it's not them who could, as easily, be in your shoes.

"Hell" breathed Goren turning to pull his jacket off the back of his chair.

"Think our tickets might turn out be to Alaska Bobby" murmured Eames grimly as she picked up the car keys. "One way"

_**The Mirabar Hotel, East 46**__**th**__** St**_

The hotel was one of those on a re-developed site more or less at the point where the Lower and Upper Midtown areas of Manhattan met the theatre district to the west. Middle of the range and aimed very much at tourists and business guests, it consisted really of two interconnecting structures. The hotel and next to it a multi-level garage building which earned an additional income from regular and day parking.

Ralph Huntingdon's_ Porsche 911_ was on the fourth floor, which was assigned, to _"public"_ as opposed guest parking. As Eames drove up the ramp to the scene, she and Goren had been silent most of the way. Not because they were hatching ways to try and shift any blame that was liable to be thrown around on each other. But because a light rain had started making the road greasy, slowing traffic and her attention was on getting them there. And his was on taking a call with the siren bawling.

From the local precinct cops who were over at the Dakota Building. Getting initial information about what had happened last night and this morning and noting it in his folder. Resisting any temptation at this stage to start to pick holes in anything. The guy was dead after all.

Very dead. Slumped in the driver's seat with an entry wound right side of his temple though no obvious sign of an exit wound Goren could see. Eames could see him fidgeting and ducking round the medical examiner that got there first. One of those determined to do their job and not understanding this was a cop that liked things to be left as much as possible how they were at discovery. Then he was pestering the CSU technician to see the pictures on the camera.

Eames went to see what the first officer on the scene had to say. She was with a parking lot attendant and someone who looked like a manager from the hotel. On her way over she was noting at least one camera and the fact there was an exit door into the hotel as well as the elevator to street level.

They met up again midway between the two points after a few minutes.

"According to the parking logs he was issued a ticket at ten thirty two last night" Eames began. "Paid for the minimum four hours. The bald guy remembers him because of the car and also because it's a strange time for someone to come in for public parking. Late for a dinner meeting in the hotel or the theatre. Is sure he was alone"

"Ticket's inside" said Goren. "And a surcharge warning under the wipers"

Eames nodded. "He said depending on how busy they are they don't always get chance to leave the booth when the system flags them up. Says he came round about three. Never saw Ralph in the car then"

"Probably wouldn't. Pictures show he was really slumped in the seat. Almost looks like he was originally…almost pushed down…half under the wheel as if to make sure he was less visible. And at that time it was still dark outside, dim interior lighting, Ralph in dark clothes on dark upholstery" Goren chewed his nail a little.

"When the day shift guy came on they finally saw him. Think they were planning to have it towed" said Eames. "I asked for tapes here and public areas of the hotel. Doubt it will help. Under manager has gone to consult about that. After I threatened him a little. What have you got?"

"Small calibre hence no through and through. Stippling of GSR on the skin suggests very close range. Doc reckons no later than midnight. Nothing obvious in the car that doesn't belong to him" Goren muttered. "In fact put that with when we are told he left home and why, it has all the hallmarks of being what it looks like"

"Decided to pay off the blackmailer, came here for a meet and either it went wrong or the intention all along was to kill him" Eames shrugged. "What are you thinking Goren?"

"That there are a hell of a lot of mosquitoes in Alaska this time of year and we should stop by a pharmacy on the way back to IPP" he replied pacing with his folder held to his chest.

It was a_"defensive/protective"_ gesture. And Goren knew it.

_**To be continued…**_


	17. Chapter 17

**Friday 18****th**** June**

_**Roark's Bar**_

There were _"cop bars"_ all over New York's Five Boroughs. At least one in every precinct and often with the same features in common. Within a few blocks of the station house, often established or run by former cops when they retired and known more for the quality and price of food and drink they served, than fancy décor. Those things mattered to the dominant patrons more than an esoteric wine list and bizarre cocktails with suggestive names.

_Roark's_ was no different and though an ex-cop founded it almost a hundred years ago, it was only when NYPD moved its HQ in 1973 that many began to patronise it in large numbers. Somehow the bar and a few buildings either side survived large-scale demolition and redevelopment in the area. Stories of Roark were legend.

An_"old style cop",_ a euphemistic term for what would, with changing times, be called_"mildly corrupt"._ Roark enforced order liberally in his place and without discrimination. With a large shillelagh he kept to hand. Back in the days when the Irish dominated law enforcement in the City, the Italians ran organised crime and they all prayed at the same church on Sundays.

Friday nights were usually the busiest even though shift patterns meant many of those eating, drinking beer and exchanging stories of triumph and disaster for the week would be working next day. Neither Eames nor Goren felt much like celebrating their mark in the _"win"_ column with the conviction of Roger Day. It had been a couple of days of very mixed fortunes for them, but Logan had a way of cheerfully bullying you into going along with him.

"…and I'm only here to see my German Shepherd perform" snorted Logan as he completed a long joke about the reasons people gave for attending a porno movie theatre.

"Blah" said Megan finishing her beer. "Time to go I think"

"Heavy date?" enquired her partner.

"No. Transfer request forms to fill out" she winked at Eames as she stood up. "See you guys"

"Have a good weekend" said Alex picking up the pitcher of beer.

"No thanks" Goren put his hand over the glass in front of him and she didn't try to encourage him.

He hadn't cut out alcohol in recent months, but he was drinking less at social occasions than he once did. And to everyone's relief, much less than a few months back when they would have been on the second, if not third jug, by now. With most of it going down Goren's neck.

Eames only topped hers up a little before passing it to Mike. "With the day we've got tomorrow I don't think I need to make it worse"

"Hotel got over its customer privacy concerns and decided to hand over the tapes did it?" asked Mike.

Goren took a sip and set down his glass. "My partner has a very persuasive personality. Either that or their lawyer advised them we'd be back to seize them and it was better to co-operate"

"Never know our luck Bobby" said Alex flipping a coaster on the edge of the table and catching it. "Could be a nice shot of a guy coming into the hotel or the garage waving something like a twenty-two"

"And if pigs flew would you need a hunting license to get a ham sandwich?" he replied.

"Cheer up Bobby" shrugged Logan. "You still got your nuts. Which between Poochy and Ross, you came close to losing twice this week"

"And mine?" grinned Eames. "Don't forget your _Equal Opportunities_ awareness training Logan"

He leaned over the table. "I expect our Captain just chewed your ass gently Alex. Same as we both know you want me to do that to you. Badly. Now I'm off to meet someone…who just might…if I play my cards right"

Logan slid out of the booth near the back and was lost with a wink and wave among the crowd spilling out around the bar.

"Do you really?" asked Goren. "Want him to?"

"Don't be stupid Goren" Eames laughed. "I'd rather be my own dentist during a_ Novocain_ shortage"

She knew Goren didn't seriously think so for one moment and if he did, he wouldn't poke his nose in by asking. And as the saying went, things might have been worse. It was her had the brief display of ruffled feathers in a spat with Danny Ross when they got back from the _Mirabar Hotel._ When she discovered he'd removed from their desks the case file and notes on the _"Huntingdon Blackmail"_. It was his right to see it but she resented him checking up behind their backs and told him so. Saw red immediately and Goren was in the locker room at the time, so unable to stop her.

Their worst fear, shared in the SUV, was that the murder would be taken away from them. Ross or someone in the brass conclude they had not done all they could to catch the blackmailer or protect Ralph Huntingdon, though there had never been any threat of violence that they knew about. They had played it by the book and if she and Goren had their doubts about what was happening, they had not pursued those ahead of the almost non-existent leads.

The murder being given to another team would have been a rebuke, however unjustified. But with someone like Elizabeth Huntingdon, you never knew what stirring her social connections might have been doing or her personally while they were looking at her late husbands body. And the facts they had turned up, which revealed neither she nor he totally matched the image they presented to the world, meant nothing. It wasn't a crime to fool around inside a marriage, choose to keep your more humble origins to yourself or not be a very good architect who had more than one business fail and with a reputation of building the next through the work of bright young graduates he hired.

However, they had been under very clear instruction by Ross to _"play it straight down the line"_ when they were dispatched to interview her at the apartment. Where Mrs Huntingdon might have bridled once or twice at being asked to repeat the same things over again, as Ray hovered solicitously next to her.

Their impression? That she wasn't prostrate with grief, but whether that reflected what seemed to be a marriage of mutual convenience or the behaviour you often saw with people like that, neither was sure. Eames recalled that early in her career she suggested to someone similar she didn't seem too upset by her husband's death. What she got told was the lady in question was _"not the emotionally incontinent trailer trash of the sort made Mr Springer a more wealthy man Officer Eames"._

"Knew we'd find you here" said a voice behind them a second before Elliot Stabler slid into the booth.

"Hi Elliot" said Eames. "Liv with you?"

"Yeah. Fighting her way to the bar. She's got sharper elbows than me"

"Lucky you" shrugged Bobby with a significant glance at his partner. "I have to go every time"

"You're the one built like a snowplough" retorted Alex. "You look pleased with yourself Detective Stabler"

"Could be" shrugged the SVU detective. "Remember that purse under Grace Wheeler in the Lexus? When CSU got their hands on it they found hidden or maybe got into the lining by accident, a key. One for a safety deposit box we've been able to trace"

"Oh" said Eames. "So you now have what the killer was looking for and possibly motive?"

"Not yet. _First National_, the legal people and the family came in from Pittsburgh on Monday are still clearing the lines. But we should get into it tomorrow with luck" Stabler sounded more serious as he went on. "DNA results still pending of course…on the…on the baby. Could become another lead"

Goren finished the last inch of beer in his glass. "Turn up any jet jewellery in the purse or on her?"

"No"

"Jet" frowned Eames. "What's jet? Apart from a type of plane and almost the name of a football team"

"Ask Bobby" replied Stabler. "Was him told me when that idiot…sorry…that cute I'm told…CSI left me in the lurch on that stone"

"And?"

"It's a mineral" said Goren. "Similar to lignite or brown coal and usually found in association with it. But harder. Capable of being cut and polished, but usually with hand tools because it's not that hard. Makes it more expensive for that reason"

"Not local to this area surely" asked Eames.

"Utah mainly. With a few deposits in Colorado and Wyoming. Don't know if it's actively sought as much as it once was. Very popular early this century as jewellery. Lot of women had it in the days when formal mourning was kept"

"Excuse the pun, but see what a mine of useless information he can be" grinned Eames.

"Bobby's rock hound period as a kid saved me some time looking it up" said Elliot. "Come on Liv. Hurry up!"

"You can have the rest of that if you want" said Goren. "Unless you want more Alex? I'm away now"

He stood up, gathering his folder and jacket he'd hung over the end of the booth "See you Elliot. And you at the movies tomorrow Alex"

"Can hardly wait. Night Bobby"

When Goren was out of earshot Stabler quit drinking from the pitcher and said. "Is it true he's seeing a shrink by the way?"

Eames sighed. "I curse the day I used that term as a joke. He's dating a psychologist. Whether he's seeing a shrink or anything else professionally I don't know. He hasn't said, I haven't asked and if I knew, I wouldn't tell you Elliot"

"Very protective of Bobby aren't you Alex?"

"Someone needs to be. And no more than he is of me. Just doesn't feel the need to make a big production number of it"

"That's me told" he said quietly. "Sorry"

"I forgive you" Eames said reaching for her purse. "Good luck with the Webster thing"

On the street, after a quick word with Liv who had secured drinks for her and Stabler, she saw Goren turning the corner in the direction of the subway. As she turned the other way Eames wondered where he was taking it tonight. _Not nosy. Just idle curiosity._

_**To be continued…**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Saturday 19****th**** June**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Eames was tapping with increasing energy on the keyboard and liable to cause the keys to pop off at any minute Goren concluded. Just based on the sound. He would offer to swap over but she was far quicker and more adept than him. Nor did she have his number sequencing problem, such if she called numbers to him, he'd probably mess up half of them. Get her so mad she'd tap him that hard instead.

"EBD 2903, Ford Taurus" he said taking out his frustration on the remote as he froze the frame from the tape that captured each vehicle entering the _Mirabar Hotel_ parking lot the night Ralph Huntingdon was shot.

With his time of death established by the ME and his own ticket they had gone back an hour before his arrival and were now working their way through up an hour after. So far the only crime they had uncovered were one out of date licence and one possibly disqualified driver. The only good news that a slug with a good chance of being matched to a gun had been dug out of his brain.

"Now I know what it feels like to be on a chain gang" muttered Eames. "Oh come on…I swear this thing is getting slower by the minute"

As she was saving the data for cross checking later, Goren's phone rang.

"Goren. Oh yeah morning Captain" he shook his head at his partner to let her know it wasn't Ross. "Uhuh…yes we are…I'm sure we could be…no I don't think so"

To some extent he was deliberately goading Eames a little more. He'd already given her a good clue by the way he straightened in his chair, what he was hearing was _"interesting"_. And he wasn't going to give her any verbal clues to _"who"_ and _"what"_ as the conversation continued a little longer.

"Yes we will and thank you Captain" Goren put down the receiver.

Then began to fasten his top shirt buttons. It took the time for him to hitch his tie before her curiosity got the better of Eames.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "It had better be a doughnut run"

"I did that half an hour ago" he said standing up. "Want to come with me?"

"Where?"

"Would you say that to Derek Jeter if he asked you to join him for a foot fetish session?" he teased her.

"It's not a fetish but I guess I learned one thing you don't do Goren" she grinned. "And you ain't Derek Jeter"

"True"

He decided to torment her any longer would put him at risk. Of terrible revenge.

"That was Captain Cragen. Seems when Elliot and Liv opened that safety deposit box at the bank this morning; among other things they found was a whole envelope containing information about the Huntingdon family. He thought we might be interested to have a look"

"Last one out the door is a sissy" said Eames, quickly turning to shut down her terminal.

_**Manhattan Special Victims Unit**_

SVU was located in the building that was once the station for the 16th Precinct. That had disappeared as an entity some years ago during one of the organisational and structural changes so beloved of successive Mayors, City Council administrations and at least two recent Chief Officers. Some believed there was a whole division housed somewhere in 1PP whose sole purpose was to keep _"re-aligning in response to changing demands and expectation on the force"._ Management speak for _"keep moving things and people around"_. It was one such had merged or closed the 16th and possibly the same one which came up with the idea of SV Units.

Like all such focussed, specialised and tasked squads they had their critics but the general view was SV's were a _"good thing". _Something often expressed by some of the more un-reconstructed officers still lurked in corners of NYPD. The very men and it had to be said, a few women, who were the last people you'd want interviewing a rape victim or a battered wife. The sort almost believed the odd cuff from a drunken husband was _"normal"_in certain situations; there was no such thing as rape inside marriage and harassment what you had to expect if you _"decided to be queer"._ Luckily those people were either genuinely fewer in numbers or had learned to keep their ignorant mouths shut.

At the time the SVU's were established there was no room to house the Manhattan one at 1PP, which was the obvious place for it. Logistically if nothing else, though technology had eased some of the centre/outpost communication issues. Some said 1PP was at capacity the day NYPD moved in and the only people not short of space the Personnel Division. Which by some strange curiosity, not only led the various _"re-alignments",_ but also included in its vast empire, responsibility for accommodation.

So depending on who you listened to at SVU, they were either glad not to be at 1PP with all the bullshit went on and brass breathing down your neck whilst at the same time bitching about their less than favourable conditions and environment. Whilst some felt, perhaps with some justification, they got left out of the loop when it did matter and professionally the officers got isolated from the day to day interaction with their peers. Those who worked other dedicated squads especially and with whom you could share ideas and troubles.

When Goren and Eames walked in that morning one _"downside"_ was very obvious. The ancient air-con was on the fritz and several large fans fighting a losing battle with heat and humidity. The only thing they were winning was over officers working nearby who had to resort to using all manner of things to stop papers blowing everywhere. Those only seemed to multiply with technology, not decrease, as some would have you believe.

By the time they had finished taking an initial look at the contents of Grace Webster's safety deposit which Benson and Stabler had sorted into various piles, Goren's tie had also been removed and his shirt was sticking one or two places like Elliot's. And Olivia had secured her buddy Alex a place at her partner's desk where the through draft of air was better, consigning Stabler to the _"hotter spot_" with Goren that Munch and Tutuola would be _"enjoying"_if they were there.

"So then" said Elliot reaching for a bottle of water. "What do our esteemed colleagues from Major Case make of this?"

It was Eames who responded with her partner still going through some paper and frowning at some largely incomprehensible spreadsheets on a data disc a computer guy, got them into.

"All of it or the material on the Huntingdon's?"

"Any, either or both" shrugged Elliot.

"Reasonable to assume the disc, the paper relating to what look like land deals and the notes are what was being looked for at the house" said Eames. "You know more about Grace Webster than we do but could it be she was into something crooked and got killed for it?"

"Our initial impression was all that material could be something dirty" said Elliot. "Especially when you put that with the couple of grand in cash"

Eames frowned. "Maybe she was just hiding some spare cash come by righteously from the IRS? Or from what you say about the situation with Jaden Chong, so she could show him bank details made things out to be more difficult. When she wanted to tap him for extras"

"Not easy being a single parent" said Olivia sharply.

"I know but it also looks like she might have accepted a four hundred buck bracelet from Ralph after a one night stand. Don't know about you but I wouldn't" snorted Eames before adding quickly. "Not that I ever had one of course"

"Of course not" smiled Elliot. "None of us did. But you have to admit Liv that has a tacky feel to it. Add the cash and statements to the fact she was claiming to have more evening meetings to attend. Cancelling dates with McGraw or even having him sit Tammy for her. And her own boss said there was no significant increase in the ones she was required for. Perhaps she was having a good time and making a little on the side?"

"If she was she wasn't making a lot out of it was she Elliot?" muttered Benson

Goren finally dragged himself away from the other material.

"That bundle on the Huntingdon's? Some of it is items we came across digging a little more into their situation. Mostly social page I'll agree and I doubt Grace could access some of the official places like we did to trace the wife's history. But why would she be collecting information about them?"

"Oh great" said Benson. "Alex has her in a corruption scam, Elliot has her hooking and now you Bobby may be lining her up as your possible blackmailer"

"I've no real reason to think that but how many people would keep clippings like that?" he shrugged. "A few obsessive movie or music fans maybe but while it's not stalking it's…it's strange behaviour"

Olivia gave her gum an angry chew then barked at him "And any of those options deserved to get her killed did they? And a little girl?"

"I didn't say that Benson so don't put words in my mouth" Goren bit back almost as hard but with less emotion. "No one deserves to be killed but it might help your investigation if you allowed yourself to consider how Grace's own actions might have been a contributory element in someone else's motive. A trigger factor. To some extent we're all actors in our own destiny"

There was a very uncomfortable moment of silence before he said. "You want some more water Eames?"

"Yes" she lied. "And the rest room"

The strategy got them out in the hall, just the two of them.

"Great" Eames hissed at him as he went to the cooler. "You make best buds with Stabler and now piss Liv off"

"You saying that as one of her best buds Eames or because I'm wrong?" he passed her a paper cup of fresh cold water.

Eames chewed her lip a moment. "You're not wrong" she sighed.

Goren filled the other cup and waited.

"I sometimes think Olivia identifies too much with victims" she said. "I know anyone killed bottom line is…like you said…but people are more complex…not as single dimension as Liv would sometimes like them to be…all bad people here and the all good people there. Bobby? Try…to understand maybe…you know her own history…"

"Half of NYPD knows _her history_ as you put it Eames. We all identify to some degree. I do, you do but we don't use the job as…as some kind of encounter group session or…project…to the same extent as she does"

"That's mean Goren and it's gossip" Eames snapped.

"It's true Eames, you know it and you heard some of it in there just now. She was closing down and going for each of us because it didn't fit with the picture she has in her mind of who or what Grace Webster was" he said quietly.

She stared up at him for a long moment. "Are we going to fight now?"

"Of course not Alex. I hope not" he took a pace or two. "But I can't be looking over my shoulder all the time or thinking I have to temper my chain of thought to avoid stepping on her toes"

"I expect Elliot's telling her that in there now"

"Well tell her to change the flavour of her damn gum" he growled. "I had enough of wasp"

_**To be continued…**_


	19. Chapter 19

**Saturday 19****th**** June**

**_Manhattan Special Victim's Unit_**

To everyone's relief that spat between Goren and Benson quickly calmed down. Captain Cragen finding the right spot on one of the air conditioning units to hit it with his shoe and crank it into life might have helped. It cooled the air a little as well as Olivia's temper and Eames had never seen Goren really explode. Calm, quiet anger such as his, had a way of acting more as a red rag to a bull to some people.

But there was never any question when it came to exploring in detail some of the possibilities for both cases who would work with whom. Neither Eames nor Goren thought it very likely that Grace Webster was involved in the blackmail aimed at Ralph Huntingdon. That an unknown male co-conspirator, who then went on to shoot him, killed her. In their job however, you often had to spend time disproving theories as much as proving them. A DA did not like to find themselves in court with defence attorneys able to offer a plausible, alternative explanation for events to a jury. You had to make sure before that stage that some doors were firmly closed and in doing so you narrowed down to the right one.

And when she and Benson really got down to the material on the Huntingdon's it focussed if anything more on the wife and Raymond Whistler than on Ralph. Her son was quite often pictured with her at various functions or identified as her escort, presumably while his stepfather was off with one of his mistresses. It was also possible they had met the same way she met with Ralph. Even more likely when Eames knew Ray did mostly the administrative work at _RH Design_ and Benson knew a fairly recent change of role for Grace meant she was often dealing with such people on the phone or in person.

Meanwhile, Goren and Stabler had taken over an interview room to set up a couple of flip charts. It wasn't necessarily a way Elliot often worked but he seemed willing to fit in with a method Goren was comfortable with and between them they were soon filling in various boxes. Gleaning information from small parts of documents, trying to make sense of that very individual spreadsheet Grace had constructed but not able to find "the key" to cracking what it all meant.

It was Benson who had one of those sudden thoughts on her way back from the rest rooms when she picked up one of the brochures from _RH Design_ Goren had left on the desk.

"How the other half live eh Alex?" she said flipping through it. "Whole catalogue here on bespoke holiday homes and cottages. Days like this who wouldn't like a little place in the Hampton's or by the sea?"

"Newport's a bit of a hike and too rich for me"

"Long Island isn't…look here…a whole spread on a place called Burnham Cottage…and Burnham was an architect. He designed the Flat Iron…"

"Now you sound like Bobby" laughed Eames

"Jeez I hope not" Olivia took it over, her enthusiasm renewed. "Look Alex…not at the decking and hot tub…but at what it says here…that it's possible to view the place by appointment with the agent or the owners…that's still _RH Designs_. Did they ever say they own a place on the Island?"

"No" said Eames slowly. "But we only asked about the places Ralph and Elizabeth visited regularly. Where they might have met someone with a grudge. Which meant the city, Newport and regular trips according to the season to Aspen and Palm Beach. Where is it on the Island?"

"Doesn't say" Olivia propped her butt on the desk. "I'm starting to wonder about Wildwood"

"Why there Liv?"

"It's where the register receipt Elliot and Bobby found came from. Without something to narrow it down we didn't have time to go out there or as the Captain said take out search warrants on every freezer in town. Always possible too that got stuck to her clothes in one in the city. It was only ever the Lexus showed evidence of being on the coast since it was last washed"

"One way to find out" said Eames. "Lets see what our friend _Google_ has to say about the name, place and location"

As she typed she continued "Do we have any way of knowing if the SUV went that far?"

"The ever careful Jaden helped us there" Olivia muttered. "Kept a note of the mileage when he lent the car to Grace. Last time he says she borrowed one to help out with work and getting Tammy around she drove it over to Philly to see family and left the gas tank almost empty. Mileage on it now is consistent with her using it around town a few days and that sort of return trip to Long Island"

"And I said I never win the lottery" breathed Eames turning the screen for her friend to see it.

Five minutes and one phone call later they were in the interview room with the guys. Telling them about Burnham Cottage, just outside Wildwood owned by _RH Design_ but mostly let through the summer. A garrulous agent who handled it, thinking she was dealing with a customer in the form of Eames, telling her that certain weeks were blocked out for the company use though she thought it was only the son who used it. And he had been known to switch to let someone hire it.

It was an important possibility in the murder of Grace but Elliot and Bobby had made some progress of their own. To the point they had a pretty good idea what the disc and the other material was about. Their best guess that Grace had indeed stumbled on some kind of corruption within City Hall in the planning process. That all this extra time she was apparently putting in at work could well be her taking chance to poke around when it was quiet or maybe meet with someone. But it was mainly supposition and without certain files or someone who could begin to narrow down sets of initials and numbers they were stuck.

What it did do was point to someone or more than one person with a motive to kill her if that was true and she got found out. But there was no evidence so far that_ RH Design_ or anyone connected with it might have been part of that. It was enough to convince Captain Cragen to put in a call to Mark Matthews, the recently assigned DA to the SVU squad. What Goren and Eames could not stop him doing however, was calling Danny Ross and they were uncertain what his response would be.

It wasn't like they needed his permission to be where they were and doing what they were when evidence might have proved useful to them turned up. The fact it hadn't moved them forward on this blackmail/murder in any obvious way was just unfortunate. He didn't call Goren or Eames back to complain, though they suspected he might have had some role in the news an obviously disappointed Cragen came back with. To the effect no one was going to be running to a judge until Monday at the earliest to get a warrant for a property owned by a freshly murdered victim. And something Matthews said about needing a more clearly defined motive and connection.

"Not very helpful your DA is he?" said Eames helping to tidy up in the interview room.

"Never wanted SVU" said Olivia "And he's young"

"Wants it tied up in a bow?" suggested Goren. "Eames any chance your contact could help with some of this?"

"Maybe"

"Oh shit" said Stabler. "Now we have to copy all this?"

Eames laughed "No you won't. Bobby will have it all written down in his folder. Don't you Goren?"

"Sure" he stopped what he was doing and looked around. "Okay someone make some remark. Nothing wrong with being thorough is there?"

"No" grinned Elliot "But I bet you write your shopping list on carbonated paper. And use two rubbers just in case"

"Hilarious Elliot" Goren muttered. "I'll give Leno a ring. He could use a new scriptwriter. Now if you'll excuse us, Eames and I have a date with a VCR and the vehicle registration database for another couple of hours"

Eames sipped some water and then groaned. "That long?"

"You know what you two could use don't you?" said Stabler shutting the door with a conspiratorial glance outside first. "A nice trip to the coast on your day off"

Goren and Eames looked at each other.

"A picnic on the beach you mean?" she spoke first.

"Could be. Thinking I might take the family. Some place has a State Park nearby"

"Some place like Wildwood you mean" said Benson quietly.

"Possibly" shrugged Stabler. "Any of you are welcome to join us"

"No way" said Benson firmly. "What I mean is I have something I can't cancel. And no way are you going out there on your own Elliot. Not without someone to hold your leash and cover your back. And I don't mean your wife and kids"

"Wouldn't dream of it" Elliot said firmly. "Those two things don't meet Liv and you know it. Don't know that I'll convince them anyway. Alex? You up for playing the slightly nosy tourist?"

"Sure. Bobby?"

Goren fidgeted briefly. "I…we…had other plans too but…"

"No don't cancel" said Eames quickly "Not when you are…I mean not when Elliot and I could handle it"

"So if you're holding his leash Eames, who is holding yours?"

"Don't make me say a rude word again Goren"

"Look" said Elliot. "None of us know anyone is going anywhere yet…apart from Alex. And if it helps you Bobby bring your shr…bring your friend with you. No reason for us not to make a proper day out. I don't intend to spend hours working for nothing on my one day off the clock. How about I call you two in…say an hour? That give you time to convince your lady?"

Ten minutes later as they headed to their SUV Eames was saying to Goren. _"Of course it's a very bad idea Bobby. But we solved a lot of cases on the back of very bad ideas. Most of them yours"_

_**To be continued…**_


	20. Chapter 20

**Sunday 20****th**** June**

_**Goren's Apartment, Brooklyn**_

Goren was raking around in the far corner of his closet when Caro Reese returned from the bathroom.

"I'd forgotten I had these shirts" he said as he stepped out, waving a couple of hangers covered in a thin dust wrapper.

She looked at them sceptically. "I should try to forget them again if I were you Rob"

"What is it with women?" he muttered removing one and looking at it. "The minute they move a few pairs of panties in next to your shorts they become more keen on dressing a guy than undressing him"

Caroline laughed as she went on rubbing her wet hair with a towel.

"That looks like an early Gauguin. His kindergarten period I'd say"

"It's Hawaiian" he pointed out. "From Hawaii too. I bought this shirt when I was working undercover with NCIS on large scale thefts from stores at Pearl and Schofield Barracks"

"What was being stolen?" she enquired. "Fruit salad?"

Goren had to admit she had a point. The pattern on the shirt was garish rows of pineapple, bananas, coconuts and palms.

"Wonder if it still fits?" he mused slipping it on.

"I doubt it" Caro scoffed as she straightened the bed a little. "It must be…at least…fifteen years old?"

Goren could tell just from how tight it felt across his back and under the arms she was probably right. But he persisted, despite some ominous creaking in the seams and having to stand like a hunchback. Until he got to the fourth button down and there was a limit to what his abdominal muscles could do any longer.

"Think I'll stick with the polo shirt" he announced struggling out of it and then kicking it under the bed. "Goes better with these pants"

"Good idea" said Caroline with a slightly _"know all"_ smirk.

"You think you could start to get some clothes on?" he grumbled.

"We've got plenty of time Rob"

"It's not that I'm thinking about" he muttered giving her butt cheek a squeeze as he went by her.

_**Barnacle Bill's, nr Farmingville, Long Island**_

Caroline pulled the Mustang off the road with a crunch and slight spray of gravel and dust as she braked hard into the sudden turn. Goren glanced over as she released the seat belt, reached under her seat for her purse and got out of the car in a hurry. In situations like this, he always hesitated to ask women, though on one possibility he didn't think he'd got the date confused.

But instead of heading for where the sign said _"Restrooms"_ she went over to one of a series of display stands between examples of all manner of beach and water sundries. Like picnic tables that seemed to unfold like magic from suitcases, small dinghies, enough beach chairs to seat a convention and inflatable toys intended to appeal to children. Whales, dolphins, an octopus and each one ideal. For carrying out to sea those kids with inattentive parents.

When he saw what she was removing from one stand he called over. "What exactly are you doing Caro?"

"Getting a few essentials" she called back. "If we're going to do this Rob we're going to do it properly"

A few minutes earlier they had been discussing family trips to beaches. Caro now knew near enough everything about him that mattered. About his early life, his parents and the rest. Things he'd told her in his own time, not looking for sympathy, probably down-playing the nastier stuff. Like she didn't hear all sorts and perhaps worse in her job and, as always, grateful for the way she reacted. None of the gushing you got from a lot of women and never the invitation to _"talk it through"_ like she was still in her consulting room at Mass. General.

He'd said he had no recollection from his childhood of building sandcastles the way she had with her folks on the beaches of Maryland and Virginia with her three younger siblings. Typical of Caro to say maybe they would get a chance today, through she was crazy if she imagined he'd touch the buckets, spades and other junk she was loading into her arms. But the view was nice as he watched her bend over in blue shorts to rummage in a box.

Goren sat there watching her, musing that Caro seemed to know what so many women forgot these days. Clothes should show off just enough of their best physical features to get a guy to look twice. But leave enough covered to give his imagination something to work on and pose a challenge for later.

"Which Rob?" she turned with a grin indicting two flags. One a _Yankees_ pennant and one for the _Mets._

"I have no idea" Goren called back.

He was remembering the last time Caro had one of her crazy ideas he had no intention of co-operating with to please her. A week later they were in the bleachers at _"The House That Ruth Built"_ and he had to work really hard to keep pretending he wasn't having a great time. He watched her head inside to pay, as two younger guys come out and held the door for her. And their eye lines as they checked out every inch of her legs from her tennis shoes and then to her ass as she went by them.

"_Typical Yankme fans"_ he thought noticing the shirts they were both wearing.

But also feeling sorry for them. All they had was hope of their team beating the _Bosox_ tonight. His hope was for something far more satisfying, though he still had real doubts about bringing Caro on this illicit _"field trip"_ of Stabler's.

_**Wildwood State Park, Long Island**_

Elliot had been dropped in the parking lot where they agreed to meet a few minutes after Eames arrived herself. She almost didn't recognise him at first in cut off jeans and what might be an old white undershirt. He switched places with his wife Kathleen, who gave her a wave and a _"See you later Alex". _While Elliot gave his three younger kids stern instruction as to their behaviour until he saw them next.

He walked over with a small backpack as they drove off to where they planned, once this was done, to all meet up for a picnic.

"Morning Alex" he said stepping into the shade under the trees.

"Hi Elliot. Kathy not with you?"

"No" he muttered. "Over at Justin's house"

"He the boyfriend?"

"Kathy isn't allowed boyfriends" he growled. "I told her she couldn't date until she was twenty-five. But she talks her mother round every time"

"You sound like my father" laughed Eames. "Did you take Justin out in the garage and give him a long list of _do's_ and _don'ts_? And threaten him within an inch of his life"

Elliot smiled "Of course. It gave me something to do while I was in the workshop finishing off the chastity belt and testing the only key. The one I have with me at all times the moment my eldest daughter is out of sight"

"I learned to pick mine" Eames shrugged. "Or rather Paul Massingham did"

"That does not inspire me with confidence Alex though Justin's a nice kid really"

"So was Paul Massingham" she winked at him.

"That's what most folk said about me too" Stabler grinned. "Trouble with all this? It brings back for me just what a one track, horny little devil I was at sixteen and I doubt a lot of things changed that much"

"I doubt it too. I remember thinking how did my father know about all these things boys would say and do, he was giving me dire warnings about. And then I realised it was because he'd tried them on himself that age"

"More or less what my Kathy told me. It didn't help" he acknowledged.

A red Mustang convertible, roof down, came slowly through the trees surrounded the parking lot.

"Here they are" said Eames.

"So it's the shr…I mean the lady friend's car?" said Elliot.

"Of course"

"What's she like?"

"Dunno. Never met her"

Stabler laughed softly. "Poor old Bobby. I almost feel sorry for him. The girl friend and the blonde he works with meeting for the first time and in these circumstances. What if you hate her and she hates you?"

"Oh grow up Elliot" she hissed. "Even if it's like that, which I doubt, it's a non issue to Goren and me"

"Just joshing you Alex and…hellfire" he muttered as he took in the legs as Caroline got out of the car.

"Oh Bobby never dates ugly women. Put your tongue back in" laughed Eames. "And based on the small sample I've met I'd say they vary more in the brain department. The more they have between their ears the longer they seem to stick around"

"I'm not looking at her ears" said Stabler softly.

Luckily, he remembered he was forty-five and married, not fifteen and frantic by the time they came over and introductions were made. Eames was quietly amused how Goren went kind of coy and was stuttering a bit as he introduced Caroline. Almost forgetting the _"Dr Reece"_ wasn't exactly necessary and Eames had seen that before. With one or two of his longer-term relationships down the years that had reached a level of_"seriousness"_ she was never totally sure of before she met the lady in question.

And with a few others he'd brought to social events, how casual Goren was about the introductions, probably told you the state of play there as far as he was concerned. Didn't exactly forget the name but Eames rarely heard them mentioned again or get the impression for long he was still seeing _"Mel"_ or _"Sue"_ or whatever it was.

The decision to send Caroline and Elliot off together in the direction of Burnham Cottage was a sound one, though Eames could tell Bobby was worried about letting her out of his sight. He'd brought her on this snooping expedition and whilst Eames didn't doubt Stabler would take care of her in every sense, there was a risk of any of them screwing up this case long term. By getting caught out and ruining the chance of being able to go about things legally and properly. To say nothing of the trouble the three of them could be in.

They believed from the chatty letting agent that a family occupied the cottage this weekend. But since none of the people who worked at _RH Design_ nor either of the still living family members had ever seen Elliot or Caroline, it was in once sense _"safer"._ Should they unexpectedly be there.

As Goren followed after Eames in the other direction it did occur to him that a week ago he and Stabler could barely stand to be inside six feet of each other. Now he was sending Caro off to playact with that tattooed hothead. _Maybe he was as nuts as some people thought?_

_**To be continued…**_


	21. Chapter 21

_Please note: __I have never been to Wildwood in Long Island. If you have or live there, please don't "get on my case" about it and sorry if it's nicer than I describe it…or maybe the fictional version is better..???_

**Sunday 20****th**** June**

_**The Village Store, Wildwood**_

There was no real_"centre"_ to the community of Wildwood. No school, not even a church and only two stores. The one that sold basic foodstuffs and household supplies and another a couple of hundred yards away which was a mixture of marine supplies, leisure fishing gear and the sort of things day and seasonal tourist might want. From bottled gas to sunhats.

The rest of the place consisted of a couple of small farmsteads, accessed via sandy tracks and one of those more a livery stable these days and scattered homes. Some lived in by the small permanent population and others no question second homes or those for renting. A mix of ages and styles from almost Colonial right through to a couple of small modern apartment complexes.

But _The Village Store_ was the one that had a garden area down the side with tables, that sold cold drinks and it was where they had all agreed to meet up. After what had been at times a long and hot walk where there was no shade. Especially for Eames and Goren, who were the second pair to return and grateful for the colourful umbrella covering the table, where Elliot and Caroline waited.

She took their various orders and went inside, neatly leaving the_"professionals"_ to talk.

"You want to watch yourself Alex" grinned Stabler shoving his shades up on his head. "You've got competition there"

"Women are just naturally nosy" muttered Goren.

"Be careful Bobby" growled Eames. "It was you brought us the long way back"

"Never mind your domestic" said Elliot. "Guess what my wife of the day found inside Burnham Cottage?"

"You let her go in!" yelped Goren, a cigarette halfway to his mouth.

Stabler shrugged. "We both did. Nice people the Rosenberg's. We made out we'd tried to get the place for this weekend so they let us see what we missed and use one of the, as advertised, four beautifully appointed bathrooms. But thanks to Caroline expressing interest in the laundry room she got to see the garage"

"And?" Goren inhaled.

"And is very sure from the state of the floor there was until recently, a chest freezer in there. Now there's an upright that doesn't cover the same area of pristine clean cement. Still in its packing by the way"

"Interesting" said Eames with a scowl at her partner he would know full well what it was about. "Pity you didn't have a luminol spray with you"

"That's what we said. But I can see us now able to check out a few electrical goods stores locally. See who might have supplied a new freezer to Burnham Cottage and maybe took away an old one? They did with the one we got a few months back" said Stabler. "Didn't know you smoked Bobby"

"Don't you start" he muttered. "Get enough from my sister there"

"It was your sister had the idea to go speak to the people at Hays End House" Eames reminded him. "They hire out boats and it occurred to me since there is not one part of the deal at the Cottage, that would be the obvious place to go. It's just along the next track off the road"

"We were still thinking why Grace might have been out here and then ended up back in the city" said Goren. "Wasn't dumped on the beach or at sea. But we did get lucky. The people at Hays End, the Henderson's, have had minor trouble in the past with Ray Whistler and some of his friends when they come down to party"

Stabler was making notes "So they tend to notice when they are around?"

"Kind of" said Eames "But here is the good part. He pitched up last Sunday wanting to hire a boat, which struck them as odd because apparently he's a lousy sailor. Throws up five yards from shore"

"Their boats were all taken and he claimed it was a friend who wanted to go out fishing"

Goren paused as Caro returned and they passed round cans or bottles and straws.When she was sitting back beside him he went on.

"We couldn't exactly ask outright if she saw a friend or any vehicle and we rather doubted she would with the trees between"

"Probably not" said Elliot. "We couldn't see that property from Burnham Cottage"

"We didn't tell you the best part" said Eames with a grin. "The Henderson's wondered if Ray Whistler also had car trouble that weekend. Because he didn't leave until Monday. Had a taxi to get him to the station. Courtesy of her brother runs the only local firm. No sign of any friend with him then"

"And we know he was at work Tuesday" said Goren "Because I spoke to him that morning and saw him that afternoon"

Stabler set down his can of _Mountain Dew._ "Please tell me he was back here that night"

"Can't help you there" shrugged Goren.

"Can I ask why that night?" enquired Caroline in the first time she had spoken.

"Because thanks to your…to Bobby…we have a Mrs Pei who first saw the Lexus this woman's body was found in, around midnight Tuesday. And what was described as a woman possibly walking away from it. A woman from what she said must be well above average height. Wearing a long trench style coat with sleeves seemed too short and a fancy hat. The sort you would wear for a wedding? Big brim and so on"

"So it could have been a man. Doesn't bring you closer on motive for this Ray Whistler though does it Elliot?" she turned to Goren who had turned to her. "Okay? So I do sometimes…very occasionally…pay attention to what you are saying Rob. And put that cigarette out"

Eames covered her smile with a big suck on her _Coke,_ watched him do as he was told and let him and Elliot deal with all of the _"ifs"_ and _"buts"_ and _"maybes"_ for her about Whistler and the friend wasn't necessarily a fiction in the whole story of what they _"knew"_ so far. By the time they had returned to the parking lot by unspoken consent the _"work"_ was done.

When Eames drove away from where they'd picnicked and spent a pleasant couple of hours with the Stabler family, the smile was broader. At seeing her partner in the middle of constructing a large sand castle. With enthusiasm and Goren's usual, ruthless attention to detail. An enthusiasm he seemed to have more of than the kids and she was almost sorry not to see it completed.

But she had incentive of her own to leave. In the great shape of Dave Seaborn, a FDNY investigator she and Goren met a few weeks back in connection with a case. And Dave certainly knew how to set a fire going in parts of her anatomy.

_**Goren's Apartment, Brooklyn**_

He lay on his back, Caro on top of him, cheek resting on his shoulder and the pads of his fingers tracing tiny circles on her back. Feeling his own heart rate and hers returning to normal and wondering for a moment if she'd fallen asleep. When her right hand, that had been stroking his side where he was once shot, suddenly quit.

Goren hadn't been joking when he told Stabler he'd done his share of clearing far away whorehouses of soldiers should have been back on base and occasionally settling disputes between them and the girls or proprietors. Just one time in South Korea it turned nasty. When the elderly woman in charge, started brandishing an old Japanese gun turned out to have a faulty safety catch. The slug ricocheted around a structure was essentially corrugated iron and took a small lump out of his side before ending in the dirt floor. Miracle no one was killed as whores and infantrymen hit the decks. Could have been worse. Six inches in other directions and he could have been shot in the back and killed or taken a 33 to the butt.

Caro shifted on him and touched the end of his nose gently. "You got the sun. Told you to use more sun block"

"I was busy" he said softly pressing his legs to hers. "Thank you for a really nice day Caro"

"You too" she planted a kiss on his neck. "Don't think you made yourself a hit with the kids claiming _Fort Stabler_ for the _Mets_"

"My flag" he yawned fractionally. "Probably washing away by now anyway and…" he paused and felt her tense slightly where their bodies were still joined "So is that one…I think we need to…"

"You know the trouble with ending up in these more exotic options Rob?" she said. "There's no way to get out of them elegantly or with much dignity"

"I know. Now if you could…no…how about if I reach…or if…oh never mind. Kiss me one more time and then we'll work it out"

_**To be continued…**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Tuesday 22****nd**** June**

_**The Mirabar Hotel, East 46**__**th**__** St**_

Eames waited impatiently in the lobby of the hotel. Wondering if Goren had got into a poker game with the bellboys he was supposed to be speaking to, or was in the kitchen exchanging recipes with the cooks. Though, if any of them identified one of the many pictures from the tapes as someone who had been acting suspiciously last Thursday night, she might forgive him.

They were both gritting their teeth on the murder of Ralph Huntingdon and getting through with the help of some uniforms at that precise moment, the latest task in the less glamorous side of the job. The routine and often dull drudgery of _"playing by the book"_ when it came to investigation. The hours spent trying to identify vehicles or people and speak to possible witnesses. Always harder work in a public place like a hotel that had dozens of people passing through. 

While they were at _The Mirabar_, they at least had the advantage of something her father's generation of cops did not. Face recognition software at CSU was running pictures from the tapes and comparing them with a whole list of local and national databases. In the hope it might match a face at the hotel, they could then link to the victim. So far, nothing had matched with anyone on the list of people with possible grievance with Ralph and Elizabeth Huntingdon had not recognised anyone either.

They didn't even know for certain that the _"man who made the blackmail threats "_ was the same person who shot him and the only thing they did know was that could be a man. The technicians going over the classic Porsche had found a grey, slightly wavy hair caught on the passenger headrest. It could have innocent explanation but they got a basic DNA profile from it and nothing about Ralph suggested he often had male passengers.

Eames also knew that while they were not just going through the motions, she and Goren were holding off more active explorations of the less obvious scenarios for the whole business. In part, that was to keep Ross happy but it was also because they were trying to juggle the other two cases that were _"hot"_ for them right now. And a chunk of yesterday had been taken up at the DA's office. Where a deal was struck in exchange for critical testimony on the _"Lexington Medical"_ fraud they had almost stumbled across. After a doctor reported an unusual number of deaths in an old folks home that turned out to be just a statistical blip after all.

The Captain as pleased as them to see the end of that in sight and warning them that _"the brass"_ could be sending their way the possible corruption business, which the murder of Grace Webster had turned up. As soon as it was clear it went further than that and from what little he said, it would seem SVU were making progress in another direction. One of those occasions they both did a good job of making out butter would not melt in their mouths and not telling Ross the step-son of _"their"_ victim might well have some explaining to do.

As Goren appeared in the lobby with a look that told her he'd struck out, her phone rang and Eames took the chance to get her own back. Making sure he was the one hopping from one damn big foot to the other with frustration he didn't know what was being said. Paid him back for the other day when he was speaking with Cragen, as he was forced to take the verbal report from the last two uniforms checking in after the canvass of hotel staff.

"That was Sergeant Grady from Kew Gardens" she said. "They've matched a slug dug from the head of a suicide to the one pulled from Ralph Huntingdon. We're heading for Queen's Goren"

_**The Mortuary, Queen's General Hospital**_

Eames left Goren to go make a cursory examination of the body the ME pulled from one of the drawers. Just hoping he didn't bug the doctor who had done the post mortem yesterday on John Henry Parker. Some of them occasionally took his questions as suggestion they hadn't done their job properly and if she was honest, her partner didn't always ask them very tactfully.

She concentrated on the file Grady put down in a space on the steel counter.

"Had all this copied for you soon as I heard you were on your way Detective Eames" he said.

"Thanks Sarg" she put her notebook and pen back in the pocket of her jacket.

"Parker's sister Mrs Louise Robinson made the report Sunday evening" he began. "Couldn't get an answer at his place and her key wouldn't open the door. Turned out he'd changed the front door lock in the last couple of days. We think so she couldn't be the one to walk in and find him"

"Very considerate suicide" said Eames looking at the first pictures of him dead on the bed.

"Very" said Grady. "Didn't leave a detailed note but neatly set out on the dining room table were all his papers like the bank, the house, his will and just this"

Eames looked at a copy of a handwritten note just said _"Sorry Loulou"._

"I'm guessing that was his pet name for her?" she said

"Uhuh. She says the writing is his, no sign of a break in, gun registered to him and of course his illness as reason to kill himself"

"Cancer" said Goren appearing behind them and looking over their shoulders at the file. "Brain tumour. Three months if he was lucky"

"Yes" said Grady. "Though according to Mrs Robinson he might have had longer. But he either gave up or had enough of the treatments four or five months ago"

"No family then?" frowned Eames.

"Apart from the sister very little. Divorced his wife over forty years ago but she thinks it was the grandson getting killed…um…" he flicked the file pages. "Just after Christmas made him lose the will to live. Roadside bomb in Iraq. He'd helped raised the boy"

"His parents?" asked Goren.

"Don't know much" shrugged the other detective. "But the mother, that was his daughter, was in Tower One on 9/11"

Eames took a deep breath and sighed "Had more than his share did Mr Parker, didn't he?"

Grady nodded and turned to Goren. "I expect the doc told you the stippling and GSR all jive with a suicide? It was only the routine check on the slug turned up the match with your murder victim in Manhattan?"

"Yeah" said Goren. "Didn't totally surprise us when ours turned up clean. No evidence our victim was into drugs or the sort of associations where the same ballistics turn up in one incident after the other. So what's the connection between these two men?"

"Jeez I hate you part time police from IPP" muttered Grady. "I have no idea Detective Goren. On account my thumb has been up my ass all morning"

Then he grinned. "But I do have the key to the Parker house and a few minutes of my valuable time to spare you. We didn't turn over the house yet. No need from what we saw. If you're done here you can follow me over there"

"It's Bobby" said Goren mildly, folder and hands behind his back as they followed Grady from the morgue. "Hair looks right Eames"

_**Abingdon Road, Kew Gardens, Queens**_

Mrs _"Loulou"_ Robinson looked more the picture of the genuinely bereaved as she sat them down with home made lemonade in her neat parlour a few streets from her brother's home. The only thing the three of them turned up there was a small _"dictation"_ type recorder of fairly ancient design. The one tape they found, was on it and sounded like street noise before it went _"blank"._ It was bagged in the SUV in case CSU could match anything with the recording they had from the Huntingdon apartment phone.

But within minutes of their questioning which Eames led, they turned up the connection between the two dead men. Though it was a name Mrs Robinson had not heard mention of in almost twenty years. The very name of Ralph Huntingdon still causing her anger. Until Goren was more or less forced to tell her why they were asking and then she became distraught. Not because he was dead, but because it looked like one of her brother's last acts in life was to kill another man. The man they believed was John Jnr's father.

Goren handed her more tissues from a nearby box and went to a side table.

"This was John? Your nephew?" he asked picking up a picture frame and passing it to Eames.

"His passing out parade" she sniffed. "We didn't want to him to sign up but after 9/11 and all…anyway that's not what you want to know"

She took a deep breath "After Mary ran off John devoted himself to raising Helen. You know he worked in maintenance at La Guadia?"

"Yes" said Eames handing Goren back the picture. "Not easy for him"

"Of course we helped and Helen was a good child. Very bright and artistic. Got that from that mother decided…oh here I go…point is she got into Yale. Second in her class in architecture. That's how she met that horrible man"

They knew Ralph was a Yale man, had barely scraped through his own degree and at various times he'd recruited graduates to work for him from his old alma mater.

"John had no idea Helen got involved…that way with him. She knew better and when she got pregnant and told him who the father was he was bitterly disappointed. But these things happen I suppose" she paused. "It wasn't just him denying responsibility was the issue. Not only was Huntingdon trying to make out Helen was a slut going with a lot of men…which she was not…he'd also stolen a design she was working on and passed it off as his own"

"When you work for a firm as an employee the intellectual property right usually rests with the company" said Goren.

"I wouldn't know Detective" said Mrs Robinson. "I just remember there was some question at the time. Something to do with it being work he didn't put through the company. It got very nasty. Helen was fired and of course neither John nor she had the money to take them on. When John Jnr was born they did take him to court to try to get some child support. But the tests then weren't like they are now. It couldn't be proved. I don't know why. Do you?"

"Back then it would probably be just a blood grouping test Mrs Robinson" said Eames wishing they didn't have to be having this discussion as Goren put back the picture.

"It could sometimes say it was impossible for a man to be a baby's father but not necessarily that he was. No more than millions of other men with the same blood type"

"Yes I think that sounds right now. Anyway I think to make the whole thing go away…to shut Helen and John up…they offered them fifty thousand dollars. They took it and I think they signed something. I expect you know it's her who really has the money? Helen found that out when she was working with him"

"We do" said Eames. "And as far as you know they never spoke or saw each other again? Your niece or your brother?"

"No. Never mentioned him. When John Jnr got to be a toddler Helen went back to school and re-trained as an accountant. I don't think she believed with Huntingdon's influence she had much chance of getting another job. At least not a good one and I think the whole business…killed I suppose…her love for that work. She and John raised her son but there was never quite the same spark in Helen she had as a little girl and a young woman. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Yes it does" said Goren gently.

_**To be continued…**_


	23. Chapter 23

**Tuesday 22****nd**** June**

_**Apartment 5A, The Dakota Building**_

After Mark Chapman and the events of 8th December 1980, plain-clothes cops rarely went near _The Dakota_ advertising openly who they were. It set up wild speculation among whichever small group, usually tourists clicking camera's, was around at the time. And there were a few regulars at the place quite often, who could really use some kind of professional help.

Elizabeth Huntingdon did not look especially thrilled to see them again so soon, as the maid showed Goren and Eames into the drawing room. Very much in the _Louis XV_ style and Eames was sure she winced every time Goren sat down in an especially spindly-legged chair. Though on this occasion he did a quick tour of the room, noting the additional bouquets of condolence set out all over the place since they were last there.

"I'm sure you didn't come to see and comment on flowers Detective Goren" she said.

"No. But it's very helpful of you to leave the cards beside each one" he said waving towards a large vase. "To see who you know"

"It helps to send personalised thank you notes" she said smoothing the left side of her hair as usual was pulled up into a tight chignon.

"I'm sure"

Eames gave him the _"behave"_ look. She knew it was a crass thing to do, Goren knew it too and whilst they had not exactly bickered on the way back from Queen's, their take on what they saw and learned there wasn't totally the same. It didn't have to be and their differences of opinion and interpretation were often what sparked thoughts and totally new directions entirely. And unlike some partnerships you saw, she and Goren very rarely took disagreement personally. Saw it as some kind of lack of trust or betrayal or worse, turned each one into a competition to see who would be more right most often.

One of the things they did agree was which from the bundles of pictures jammed into Goren's folder, was John Henry Parker. Captured quite openly entering the lobby of _The Miramar_ just after ten the night Ralph was shot. Looking like any other business type in a suit and tie and the only thing might be seen as out of place was what looked like a trench style raincoat over one arm. When you knew he was, within the hour, to shoot another man, it took on possible meaning. Something to cover any blood splatter on his clothing as he made his getaway. Otherwise you just took him for a very cautious man in the middle of a minor heat wave or an out of towner or foreigner who didn't believe the local forecast for a dry and balmy night.

Eames passed her the picture "Is this man familiar Mrs Huntingdon?"

"No" she glanced at it very quickly and tried to pass it back. "But he could use a decent haircut by the look of him"

"Look again please" Eames handed it back. "Does the name John Henry Parker mean anything?"

Mrs Huntingdon didn't look at the picture. "I think the Silverstein's in 7C had a chauffeur called Parker one time. But he was a younger man and black"

"What about Helen Parker? Who once worked for your husband?"

"Helen" she gasped. "Her? What does she have…just a moment"

She picked up some spectacles from the side table and put them on and looked at the picture again.

"Yes…yes perhaps that is him…odious little man…lost a lot of his hair of course but yes…yes that could be someone by that name I met once or twice" she removed the glasses. "Many years ago"

"Twenty. When his daughter Helen claimed your late husband was the father of her child, that he may have stolen a design of hers and you…you and your husband I mean…paid them fifty thousand dollars to go away" said Goren.

"Are you telling me or asking me Detective?" she asked archly.

As Goren shrugged, Eames quickly said. "Both Mrs Huntingdon. To confirm the connection we've learned of from another source"

"Yes that's what happened or their version of it. The child's paternity was never proved either way"

"But you knew your husband had an affair with her?" asked Goren

"We've been quite open about the understanding Ralph and I had on that matter. So yes I did"

"Before Helen Parker announced she was pregnant or after?"

"I don't recall Detective Goren. Does it matter?"

"No" he unzipped his folder. "Just interesting that was inside three years of your marriage. I didn't realise your _understanding_ was of such duration. This was John. The child. Taken just before he was killed a few months ago. Serving his country"

"I'm sorry to hear that" Mrs Huntingdon took the picture, glanced at it and set it aside. "Iraq?"

"Yes" said Eames with a look at her partner. "Mrs Huntingdon? Mr Parker died at the weekend. Almost certainly a suicide. The ballistics match the gun killed your husband"

"You mean…it was him…this blackmail was just to kill Ralph?" she stuttered. "After all these years?"

"That's what it looks like" said Goren. "Can you say now the voice is familiar?"

"I doubt we exchanged more than a hundred words, it was a long time ago and I think he was shouting for most of them. So he killed Ralph and then killed himself? In a fit of remorse or guilt I assume"

"Possibly" said Eames guardedly. "We are still at the early stages. To be sure"

They heard through the double doors led into the hall the sound of the bell ringing.

"More flowers I expect" said the older woman smoothing the skirt of her black dress and again her hair as if preparing to receive a guest.

"So what else have you to do? Did you find the thirty thousand dollars in his accounts or something like that?"

"No" said Goren. "No telling if and where that will turn up. Could have burned it I suppose. If personal revenge was his real motive"

"It's not like there's anyone to benefit and it's possible our insurance will cover that" she said, adding "And nothing will bring back Ralph of course"

"No one to benefit?" said Goren with a frown. "You knew Helen Parker was also dead?"

"No…I mean yes…when 9/11 happened like a lot of people in the city we knew some of…"

Suddenly, there was a lot of noise in the hall and a familiar female voice yelled, _"Police. Stop!"_ The maid came through one set of doors babbling, the other set burst open and Ray Whistler tumbled through them yelling _"Mom!"_

Closely followed by Olivia Benson, while Stabler and a uniformed officer were pushing the maid out of the way. Eames tripped Ray up as he ran towards his mother and her friend more or less landed on his back. With a pair of cuffs and began to read him his rights. In connection with the murders of Grace and Tamara Webster. Mrs Huntingdon lost some of her clipped tones as she asked what the hell was going on, Ray lay on the floor protesting and Goren and Eames just tried to keep out the way, realising their interview was probably at an end.

Elliot stopped chewing to put his gun away, shrug and say "Sorry. Are we interrupting something?"

_**To be continued…**_


	24. Chapter 24

**Tuesday 22****nd**** June**

_**The Rear Lobby, The Dakota Building**_

"Sorry again" shrugged Benson as the four of them watched a white-faced Raymond Whistler being bundled into the back of a patrol car to take him down to the old 16th Precinct building.

"You didn't know we were here. We didn't know he was come to that" said Eames. "And after what happened, we were bound to lose his mother's attention while she heaped indignation on you"

Stabler loosened his collar on another hot day. "Between calling _Kessler, Franks and Winthrop_. Trust them to be the Huntingdon's lawyers"

"Had the pleasure of one of the Kessler's at a trial just recently" said Goren stopping things sliding from his over-full folder. "He lost"

"Guess that's something" muttered Elliot.

"Of course we had Jack McCoy on our side that day"

"Thanks Alex" said Liv. "Or should I say _Bad News Bear?_"

"Look on the positive side. You must have good grounds for him to be taking a black and white taxi. And for you to have warrants on his apartment in The Village and the cottage" said Eames as she moved to stand beside her partner.

"Sometimes things just fall in your lap" grinned Elliot. "Or in this case a helpful retailer and a _Ferrari 612 Scaglietti_"

Goren hissed through his teeth at mention of the car and decided not to point out Elliot did not pronounce it correctly. The _"g"_ was silent and _"li"_ said like a _"y"_.

"Now we might forgive you. What do you think Eames?"

"I'm hoping it's going to be seized as a benefit of crime, first prize in the _Benevolent Fund Christmas Draw_ this year and…oh yeah…is a silver one"

"Dark grey" laughed Stabler. "And that's one reason we were able to move on Raymond and might have the second person could have been at the house that that night. Compared to silver, red and black there were fewer of them to track down"

With Whistler needing to be booked in at their base and firmly exercising his right to say nothing until his attorney was present, the two SVU detectives were in no rush to get away. And as Olivia said, they kind of owed them an update for what Alex and Bobby had put into their case, officially and unofficially.

The retailer was more straightforward. They had tracked down quite easily the store, which had supplied a new freezer of the make and model Caro had noted to _Burnham Cottage_ last week. One Raymond Whistler had paid for, though the local letting agent dealt with delivery and removal of the old one on Thursday. Quite where that was to undertake possible forensics was uncertain and the local police were lending a hand with that. The suspicion being it was not taken to an approved disposal site but possibly sold on, unofficially, by the delivery guys.

What that didn't do however, was put Raymond Whistler ever anywhere near Grace Webster's rented house on the night of her murder or that of her daughter. It was a helpful neighbour and good citizen lived further along the street did that for them. She had been leaving around 8pm that night to go on vacation and between loading bags was vaguely aware of a car stopping, someone getting out and then driving away past where she was. As Stabler said, luckily a lady who knew her cars.

When she returned from her vacation on Sunday evening and heard what had happened she contacted the cops. Not with much of a description of a man she thought went down the side of the house, but the one who drove by her. Took them all of five minutes to identify Justin Salmon as one of the few owners of a dark grey _Scaglietti_ and the only one met the description of _"mid twenties with a shaved head"._

At that point Stabler had paused in the telling and looked at Goren with a quizzical expression.

"J Fish, Elliot" he said after a moment.

"Is this some new kid's game you two invented?" puzzled Eames.

"No" he shook his head. "It was among that material we were looking at Saturday. The only name I think that was written in full in Grace's various notes of one sort or another. We couldn't find it listed either as an employee of City Hall, in the membership of _The Society of Architects_ or anywhere else we looked"

"But there was another JS listed and a JBS" said Elliot. "Doesn't take a genius to work out why she used "_fish"_ in notes Grace was either deliberately keeping vague…like a code…or because she knew the people well by just their initials"

"They are the same guy" said Benson. "We called in to see Justin Salmon who almost needed to change his underwear when we turned up at the building firm his uncle and father run. _Hammond Brothers_. Salmon is the stepfather's name.

"Sheesh" said Eames.

She knew as well as the rest of them _Hammond's_ was a very well known and successful company in the city.

"They did that big contract at 1PP a couple of years back"

Confronted with the almost certain possibility of being picked out in a line up, Justin was advised to come clean by his lawyer. His prints didn't match any found at the house but it was very clear the police were onto him in some way or other. And by then Stabler had given him more food for thought. When he implied his name was in some papers they found was liable to be a separate investigation and if they were right, possible motive to kill Grace Webster or for him to have her killed.

The story he was telling and they were still checking, was that he and his buddy Raymond had set up a front company to work some land and property deals. Through a contact of Raymond's he claimed not to know the name of, they had been able to get a couple of projects around the zoning laws. And thus make more money when they sold on.

According to him, something Grace said when he was at City Hall on company business made Justin suspicious she might be onto them. Whistler, though he might not know it, had a lot in common with his stepfather Ralph. Justin told them Whistler had a _"thing"_ for Grace. Been trying to get her to date him. Because he knew her better than Salmon, he'd dropped Ray off that Friday evening to go and speak with her. Try to find out what she knew or maybe offer her money to keep quiet.

Salmon had no idea what happened in the house that night and was unable to contact Whistler until Monday afternoon. By then, he'd seen an item in that day's paper about the death of Tamara and Grace being missing and was scared _"shitless"_ in his words. But he seemed to be pretty well alibied for the rest of that night and other critical times. Was adamant he never laid a finger on either or had anything to do with what seemed to have happened with her body until it re-appeared in Chinatown.

But as Benson said, he didn't exactly help his plea of _"shock and horror"_ when he admitted he had since negotiated a deal with Raymond to go their separate ways on their company. Effectively splitting their assets, which in Salmon's case, was simply to distance himself from another man he had good reason to suspect, was a double killer. And _"very cool"_ was his impression of Ray's demeanour in the last week.

"Wasn't so cool when he came running in calling for his Mommy was he?" muttered Eames. "What is it with these little rich boys? Can't be satisfied with all the advantages life threw at them?"

"Who knows?" said Elliot with a glance at his watch.

"Is Whistler the possible father of the baby?" asked Goren.

"No" said Benson. "Results on that came back as Mike McGraw's kid"

"Will you two want to interview him later? Is he good for killing his step-father too?" asked Stabler.

"_No"_ said Eames and Goren in unison.

"At least not yet" she qualified. "I think there's a lot more around the Huntingdon family situation we have yet to turn over ourselves. If we think of anything might help you if you don't turn up physical evidence and can't crack him, we'll let you know"

"And we'll do the same" said Olivia adding. "Good doing business with you guys"

A remark as she and Stabler headed for their car was aimed rather more at Goren. He and Eames looked at each other a moment.

"Ladies first" said Goren mildly.

They both knew their heads were back in their own official caseload and it was a phrase when he said it, Eames knew had none of the mildly patronising undertones you might get from some male colleagues.

"Hardly batted an eyelid did she? Seeing that picture of John Parker Jnr? Our mouths almost dropped open seeing how like Ralph the young guy was. The fruit didn't fall far from that tree Goren"

Eames folded her arms and took a pace or two. "She either has remarkable self control, is half blind or she knew before we showed her that picture"

"Agreed. Though that's your interpretation of my client's reaction Detective and no proof of anything. She always had reason to suspect her late husband fathered that boy. Why should she be shocked about any likeness?"

"Ever think you are doing the wrong job?" she smiled.

"I'm taking the fifth on that one" Goren shrugged. "And despite the distraction, I'm assuming you didn't miss the comment about Helen Parker. My interpretation was that she knew she was dead. Despite claiming no contact with Parker over the years. I don't like to use the word luckily in the circumstances Eames but…luckily because of how Helen died, she was able to start coming up with plausible explanation"

"Like a lot of people in the city my client scoured the lists of the missing and known dead, for people they knew. Helen Parker was a name she knew and just assumed it must be the same woman. But until you told her she had no way to be sure" said Eames who had not missed the final exchange that got rapidly lost in the confusion.

"It's a still a long reach Eames" Goren paced a step or two himself.

"And there seems little doubt John Parker was the shooter" he chewed his thumbnail. "And suppose we did find some link or contact between them? What does that prove? She plays the understanding and grieving widow and against that we have Louise Robinson spitting long held family venom against Ralph. Only emphasising the motive a bereaved man harboured for years. And acted on when there was no reason as he saw it to go on and was dying himself"

"Want to forget it Bobby?"

"Like deleted expletive I do" Goren muttered. "Come on Alex, I'll buy you burger and fries on the way back and let you have the crunchy ones"

Eames smiled as she followed his broad back out of the door.

_**To be continued…**_


	25. Chapter 25

**Wednesday 23****rd**** June**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Captain Danny Ross tossed a sheet of paper on Logan's desk. "Mike? Do you have a calculator?"

"Sure boss? Want to borrow it?" he began to search on his desk and open a couple of drawers.

"No. Do you know how to use it? Only I just wondered. Your expenses claim form was wrong. Again"

Logan looked up. "Certain it was a genuine mistake Captain"

"Certain it was. You were robbing yourself of eight dollars and twenty-three cents" Ross almost smiled. "You can buy me a drink on what I just saved for you sometime"

"Will do. Thanks"

"Where are they?"

"Who boss?"

"Eight dollars and twenty-three cents doesn't buy you a seat at the smart-ass table Logan"

"Doing some more follow up on that architect's murder, I think" said Mike, who knew very well where Eames and Goren were.

"I thought they cleared that yesterday? Spoke with the wife and that Parker guy's sister again when they got back?" Ross frowned.

"Wouldn't know sir" said Logan which was pretty close to the truth.

The next sound from Ross was a _"hmm"_ noise before he went to the door to respond to a messenger had something for either Detectives Goren or Eames. Logan watched him sign for the envelope, pause by the nearby desks, then decide take it with him into his office at the far end of the room.

"Explain this to me Megan. You're the one understands how people think. Why does a man who wants _T's_ crossing and _I's_ dotting not look happy when that's just what Bobby and Alex are doing?"

His partner looked up from some papers she was reading.

"Because he suspects they won't do it the way he wants it doing" Wheeler replied. "And judging from a few things Alex was telling me in the locker room earlier he's probably right"

"Looks like we might have a good ringside seat for when he finds that out" grinned Logan.

"Voyeur" she muttered.

_**St. Vartan Park, Lower Midtown**_

Goren set Poochy back down on the ground, grateful for the light grey suit wouldn't show the white hairs so much and for the blue striped tie he made sure he was wearing that day. The two of them were now the best of friends and at least the hairy creature hadn't had the urge to demonstrate it the way he had with Logan last week.

"You take care Miss Ringwald" said Eames "And you Poochy"

"We will dear"

The old lady walked away towards the little bandstand rather quicker than the dog Goren had realised was a lot older than he seemed the other day. But circumstances hadn't given him a lot of chance to form a considered view when the instinct for self-preservation had kicked in as the dog flew at him. Ask anyone with a scrotum and they would tell you the same.

"You know I can imagine her as a showgirl can't you Goren? A rather naughty one too"

"Yeah" he shifted on the park bench. "What I can't do is imagine her as a credible witness on the stand Eames. Even to seeing John Parker in the area around Macy's. Imagine what someone from _Kessler, Franks and Winthrop_ would make of her statement _'yes I saw him use my favourite telephones'_. And that's assuming she doesn't wander off into a story about the size of Sinatra's penis"

"That would add to her credibility" shrugged his partner. "Well known fact apart from the voice, that was his biggest asset"

Eames sensed Goren's head snap around from watching the retreat of Miss Marjorie Ringwald, eccentric of the parish and her dog. Returning to the nearby brownstone where she lived with a niece. Whose _"custody"_ Marge frequently _"escaped"_ when she was pre-occupied with three small children.

"I'll take your word for that"

"You're right though Goren and so far Marge is the only person can make a connection between Parker and Elizabeth Huntingdon. If she's right it was them she saw coming out of that coffee shop" sighed Eames. "Unless her phone records turn up something after all"

"The modern day curse I expect" Goren murmured writing some notes in his folder. "Untraceable, pre-paid cell phones"

"We did find some of the money though. That might please Ross. Maybe we should tell him that after you give him that list of yours?"

"Mmm?"

Eames decided to use one of the more successful methods of re-gaining Goren's attention when his head was elsewhere.

"Boy the _Mets _stunk last night"

"I wouldn't know" he said shutting the folder and standing up. "I was too busy writing my list. You ready to go Eames?"

Goren knew Alex was rolling her eyes behind her shades as she reached in her jacket for the car keys.

Writing what was more_"their"_ list than_"his" _was not the only thing he'd done last evening. For some reason he'd finally sorted out all but one of the boxes of his Mom's things that had sat in the hall of his apartment for months. Items his partner…his friend...had helped a nurse at _Carmel Ridge_ pack away, while he dealt with the final papers and formalities that followed her death. Which seemed to consist of signing his name dozens of times on lots of pieces of paper helpfully marked with an_"X"._

It was Alex helped him carry them to his car and then into his hallway. Where they stayed deliberately ignored, apart from him stumbling over them several times when he was out of his head on some combination of substances and emotional turmoil. Only in recent weeks did they move a little. So he could clean around them and the mere fact he was cleaning again was progress.

Why he had not tackled their contents before Goren didn't really know. _Perhaps fear?_ That inside he'd uncover some other dark secret about his family, himself and his life he'd prefer to remain in ignorance about.

_A lack of courage?_ To face the bad memories he knew that certain things inside would provoke. Of the man who was notionally supposed to raise him and of the brother, who once again had done one of his vanishing acts. And of times when his Mom was in the worst and most painful episodes of her life, her mental illness and the physical one eventually killed her. Or perhaps it was what _"vox-pop"_ psychology would call an inability _"to let her go"?_

Let go by trashing or giving away the clothes, the personnel possessions of the one person who brought most of the good things to his life. Who had loved him and cared for him as child. Most of the time exactly the same way other Moms did in a practical sense. Who encouraged his love of books and learning, who realised she had an embarrassingly smart little boy on her hands and who protected him from the occasional sneers of Frank, his father and the bullies at school. Until he reached High School, began to grow and discovered that paid off in basketball. Meant he didn't stand out quite so much as _"different and geeky"_ and began to develop some self-confidence.

And it was Mom, when she was in her right mind, who was very determined on his behalf. That_"her Bobby"_ should try to have a life of his own and not be tied to her, obligated and options stifled, when his father went off and it was becoming clearer Frank would be a weak vessel to rely on. A weaker one than she could ever bring herself to admit and more than she would ever know.

But he got through it. Sorting the clothes, making sure those he intended to drop off at a project for the homeless on his way to work, were clean and pressed. Whilst others, along with a lot of the _"junk"_ she'd hoarded, went into black sacks and then to the dumpster. Something of a catharsis to do and not a painful one. Though the box, which Goren knew contained her more personal things like photographs still awaited his attention. The hallway suddenly seeming much larger and it sat lonely now under the coat rack.

Writing the list of_"problems"_ he and his partner still had with this case served as a helpful distraction between the tasks of emptying the boxes. It had crossed Goren's mind that at some point John Parker must have had to do the same thing twice over. With his daughter's room and that of his grandson. When they were at his house with Grady, both were remarkably bare of any evidence of the people who once occupied them. What that _"told you"_ Goren wasn't sure or that it mattered.

Two things did. That he and Eames still hadn't scratched their shared _"itch"_ so it no longer bothered them and somehow they had to convince Danny Ross to let them go on scratching it a bit longer.

_**To be continued…**_


	26. Chapter 26

**Wednesday 23****rd**** June**

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case Squad**_

Any hopes Goren and Eames had of leading their boss gently or gradually to seeing things their way were dashed almost the moment they returned to the Squad Room. When they were summoned to his office. To explain why the hell they were now digging into the Huntingdon phone records from _before _the time the first blackmail call was made to the apartment at the Dakota Building.

That led to something of a diversion while Eames pointed out it wasn't illicit snooping since the permissions they had didn't actually specify a date. And that it was her idea when, for a moment, Ross seemed about to assume this _"unorthodoxy"_ was her partner's. Or that Goren was the only one had suspicions about this case from the start and the growing one the whole thing could have been engineered. To kill Ralph and that there was some kind of pact or conspiracy to do it between John Parker and Elizabeth Huntingdon. Unlikely as that seemed given their history.

It wasn't until Ross was persuaded to listen more than talk and study the paper Goren put in front of him they began to make progress. Though he didn't endear himself to the Captain sitting there picking bits of white fluff off his suit and distractedly dropping them on the new carpet only put down at the beginning of the week. Ross pointedly stuck the trashcan beside him on his way to pour himself coffee. One he told them both he'd probably need for the _Advil _they'd leave him swallowing by the time they left.

When feathers stopped being ruffled or fine white dog hairs in Goren's case, Danny Ross came around a little.

"And you're sure Bobby? About your take on Ralph?"

"As I can be and Mike was there. We got the impression last Tuesday that whilst he wasn't especially worried about the threat we know was never real leverage, he was going to co-operate. Make sure we were alerted if the blackmailer called. Not suddenly decide to stay silent and run off to a late-night meeting two days later with thirty grand"

"So why would he?" mused Ross loosening his tie. "You seem to think the wife might have talked him into it. Is she capable of that?"

"Who knows Captain" conceded Eames. "It's possible there was something Parker was primed to use as a trigger. But we only have her version of events that night. Same as we only have her version of what was said in the first call. And how would Parker have Ralph's cell phone number? It's not listed on the company documentation"

"You have the tape of the second call"

"We also have the opinion of a respected linguistics expert that the whole conversation had strong elements of staging to it" said Goren. "And an almost certainty John Parker's end of it was taped. Don't ask me why. I can only think he or she wanted to be sure he got his part right. It's possible the brain tumour was affecting his memory or his speech at times. One of them knew for sure we would be listening and how long a trace would take. We had to brief her on that remember"

"I suppose I'll be getting a bill from this expert I didn't authorise?"

"Favour from a friend of a friend Captain" muttered Goren.

"Hmm" there was a note of scepticism of someone heard that before from Ross.

Ross stood up and went to the window. Eames found herself checking he still had his shoes on the way the jokes were going around about their Captain's slight fixation on his new carpet.

"I do take your point though" he mused. "How if Ralph was the supposed target it was odd. The calls all except the last were made to the apartment during the day. Not to his offices where you'd expect him to be"

Eames turned in her seat. "And we checked now Raymond is out of the way. No one at _RH Design_ could find records of or remember any calls from men asked for Ralph who didn't leave names or messages"

"You don't think it was him…no then these calls would have been there where he answered the phone…and one was to the Dakota while you were at the offices Goren. Doesn't mean he doesn't know. Is in it with his mother? Seems to be into everything else"

"I guess we could ask him" said Eames.

"You'll find that difficult Alex" Ross turned from his window gazing. "Don Cragen called earlier. Ray Whistler has been charged with the Chelsea murders and is due to be arraigned this afternoon"

"Oh" said Goren. "So did they find…"

"I don't know Bobby" he cut Goren off. "Speak to Stabler and Benson if you're curious. We were just clearing lines on who was going to run with this other business it threw up.

Ross paced a little on his new carpet and neither Goren nor Eames pushed him. Not out of concern about irritating him again, as much as appreciation for a very simple fact they did both understand. The Captain of the squad was supervising more than a dozen teams of detectives, all of whom had multiple cases on their desks he had to keep abreast of. When you were absorbed in your own little corner, it was easy to forget Ross was almost minute-by-minute having to switch from one complex problem to the next. Did not have the _"luxury"_ of being able to carry a single chain of thought for long.

"Motive" he said. "Hers I mean? Why after all these years does she suddenly want rid of her philandering husband?"

"Because everyone has their limits I expect" muttered Eames. "Perhaps she thought he'd leave her this time for this Jackie Girardelli we are due to see this afternoon. Personally I'd have packed his bags long ago"

"Money" said Goren suddenly flipping through his folder. "Why didn't I see it before? Jackie Girardelli"

"See what Bobby?" frowned Eames.

"If I'm right she might be one of the Girardelli's who are big in the meat packing business. Don't you see? If she is, she's not like a lot of the mistresses Ralph had before? She's got money. The sort of resources to bail out _RH Design_ if it's in trouble…we need to check that…and we know it was probably Elizabeth's money paid off the debts of the other two companies that folded"

Goren began to wriggle subconsciously in his seat and gesture more expansively with his pencil.

"I wonder just how much of her lottery win is left? Could it be killing Ralph got her and John Parker double payback for his behaviour? The satisfaction element in here. The emotional"

He tapped his chest. And then went on with a tap to his head.

"Then for her there's the payback up here. The practical. Killing him gets rid of the financial millstone…Eames what did she say about insurance?"

"Only that…"

"If she has some kind of big life policy out on him too" he went right on. "Avoids a divorce might fill the gossip columns, make her a figure of fun and…"

"Whoa there" Ross said loudly putting up his hands. "Before we head off into _Bobbyland_ let's just work out how we even begin to get our hands on those financials"

Goren frowned as if he couldn't understand why Ross didn't see it.

"Through Ray Captain" he said simply.

"He's right" said Eames who saw it too as soon as Goren said it.

"Any money he had to run this property scheme had to have come from Mommy or the business. Like you said boss that has to be investigated. Seems to me that opens up a legitimate line into the Huntingdon money and that of the company"

"And something else I just thought of" said Goren. "Excuse me"

He got up and left.

Ross shook his head. "Did I say he could go? That I was finished with you two?"

"Think you might have Captain" smiled Eames watching her partner lope to his phone and pick it up.

"Don't you start Alex" said Ross watching Goren himself.

Dragging his chair under his butt as he began to speak to someone.

He turned to Eames. "He really is back isn't he?"

"Yeah" she said fondly. "In a lot of ways he is. Not sure he'll ever be quite the same. Who would be?"

"Guess you see sides to him I don't"

"Some you maybe wouldn't want to sir" said Eames standing up.

"Stay in your seat Detective Eames" Ross pointed to the chair. "I still need to hear how you turned up ten grand in cash this morning before you go out in the yard to play with your buddy Goren"

_**To be continued…**_


	27. Chapter 27

**Wednesday 23****rd**** June**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

It didn't take long for Eames to explain to Ross how they came by ten grand that was in the lab being tested for prints of two dead men. Part of _"filling in the gaps"_ was to establish it was possible for John Parker to have been the man who made the call last Tuesday that they had on tape. Why he'd be using a public phone in the centre of Manhattan, when he was a retired and sick man living in Queens. It transpired since John Junior was killed, he was filling time waiting for his own death by volunteering at a day care centre for wounded ex servicemen.

Almost in sight of_ Macy's_ and they had gone there to check the days he'd been in attendance. Both occasions of the calls to Elizabeth Huntingdon put him in that vicinity and they last saw him at the centre Saturday morning. When Parker dropped off a large box of what the manager assumed was bric-a-brac, for a fund raiser due soon. Some of it was, but when Goren and Eames opened the box, inside was the cash they naturally bagged as possible evidence.

What Eames didn't tell Ross was the slightly wild notion they had about Marge, which led them to track her down. Or that the one possible eyewitness to Elizabeth Huntingdon and John Parker being together some weeks ago was a dotty old lady. With as much potential as a convincing witness as a chocolate pot to hold tea. Ross had his own problems and sometimes the less he knew the better it was for everyone.

It surprised neither of them that the past phone records for the Dakota Building showed no exchanges between there and the number in Kew Gardens, but by then things were moving quickly. It wasn't until well into the afternoon Eames remembered to ask Goren what it was sent him running to his telephone. And he didn't exactly tell her why he was calling the West Coast either. She'd accepted long ago that Goren sometimes had fanciful notions he didn't keep to himself in order to keep her out of the loop.

When they moved from fanciful to _"promising"_ he always told her right away. It was almost as if Bobby did it to protect her. So if it did get out he'd followed some wild idea turned out to be wrong, it all fell on him. She wasn't tarred with the same brush his reputation suffered from. He did tell her how he suddenly placed Jackie Girardelli but of the two of them, only he would know the meatpacking dynasty were big _Mets _fans with a fancy box hospitality box at Shea Stadium.

And there wasn't much time for idle chatter as something of a hectic operation swung into action. Olivia and Elliot arrived themselves with a couple of boxes of material from SVU. The original items taken from Grace Webster's safety deposit box and copies of just about everything they had on her murder, Stabler informed them as he put it on one of their side room tables where they were setting up. Hadn't stopped to sort out what was most relevant or been given time by Cragen to do so. What primarily they needed was what Justin Salmon and to a lesser extent Ray Whistler said about this crooked scheme they pulled. That was the key to two things.

Their _"in"_ to get at financial data might strengthen the motive for Elizabeth to be rid of Ralph but also to the wider picture. What they did and with whom might be a pattern to the rest of the people involved. It was also clear to the four of them that some kind of _"deal"_ had been struck or brokered between a combination of Cragen, Ross and probably the Chief of D's himself. That the more general issue was really one for _Major Case_ but _SVU (Manhattan)_ was to stay on board for a while. A piece of the pie in what might turn out to be a high profile scam reaching into the city administration was not one to be missed. Though Eames was enough of a sceptic to suspect privately if the pie suddenly began to turn sour, Cragen would row his people out as fast as he could.

There were seven of them in the room to start since Ross knew Logan and Wheeler were the best people to team up with Goren and Eames. And to give her experience, he'd added Faith Dempsey who was generally seen as the rising young star of the Squad. Eames ended up taking her with her to interview Jackie Girardelli, now back from Europe, which left Goren to see Kenny she'd persuaded to develop a sudden stomach upset and leave City Hall.

When they drove off, she spotted him coming towards 1PP as Stabler and Benson were heading for the court building. Ray Whistler had decided, suddenly and unexpectedly, to plead guilty to the two murders after all and their young DA needed a little hand holding, perhaps wondering what one of the Kessler's might be going to throw at him. They were not known as smart and muscular lawyers for nothing.

When Eames returned to give Goren a cursory summary of what she and Faith had been told, he was impressed what pieces of the wider puzzle Kenny had allowed them to fill in. Primarily done by Logan and Wheeler to leave him free to keep switching back to the specific material on the Huntingdon family and business finances as it came in. The lawyers had probably expected a foray into those as soon as they realised Ray Whistler's illicit business partner had _"co-operated"_ and were not resisting requests or one or two warrants for them.

It meant papers began arriving from them and accountants that Eames joked were almost gift-wrapped, when she called Keith Deller, the forensic accountant worked as a civilian attached to the _Fraud Squad_. Though he sometimes claimed he spent as much time on the eleventh floor and one of Ross' ambitions, yet to be achieved, was to get dedicated assistance for them of that kind. Instead, they'd kept him quiet with some new battle ship grey_"industrial quality twist"_ and that was only after a City Councillor caught his chair leg in a worn patch of carpet and ended with a cup of the Captain's_ Nicaraguan Full Roast_ in his lap.

Their shift was over by an hour when Ross called by on his way out. It was a night they all knew he usually tried to see his kids. The four of them left by then looked up almost surprised at the time on the clock. Megan had gone for some kind of personal appointment but was dropping off information for Stabler and Benson to act on next day. It was Mike gave him an update on the big picture along with Dempsey. Gave her a chance to earn a few points and Eames and Goren had been focussed on their own corner of it, once Keith had done his job for them.

Eames had to smile how Goren wasted no time explaining how _RH Design_ was financially sound but that Mrs Huntingdon had taken a financial bath in some recent investments. Just after giving Ray the ten million he'd used to buy his apartment in the West Village and now forfeited the rest, thanks to this _"get rich quicker scheme"_.

She was hardly on her financial uppers but these things were relative. The biggest asset that was free and clear was the Newport, Rhode Island house. Which was in Ralph's name and always had been since it was bought soon after their marriage. And which the best advice said he might well get to hang onto had the marriage ended by more conventional means. A house Elizabeth was pressuring him to sell, though it was only hearsay from the girlfriend seemed to spend more time there with him. Possibly up to twenty million worth of motive given the development potential of the land came with it.

The Captain suggested they should not be much later on this as he left and Goren hotfooted it out behind him to his phone.

"Ten bucks says that's him making a '_sorry I'm late for dinner'_ and begging forgiveness call" grinned Logan.

"And they say women gossip?" snorted Faith Dempsey.

Eames suspected it was too and why when he saw the time, Goren had spared Ross too many details or alternative theories he might be hatching. She said nothing.

"Did you meet her yet?" yawned Mike stretching expansively.

"Uhuh" she replied removing the tape of Salmon's interview from the machine to put back in its sleeve. But she was not about to tell him where and how.

"So?"

"So she's…how to put it Logan…the sort would feature on your fantasy list"

"Never ahead of you though Alex" he smiled.

Twenty minutes later he and Faith were gone and when Eames came back from the rest rooms Goren was watching another tape. She could see it was one of the interviews with Whistler. Probably early on before Long Island tracked down that freezer turned out to have blood evidence you wouldn't necessarily see after cleaning it. Before luminol revealed drag marks on the garage floor that had been scrubbed and when Ray and his lawyer were still shrugging at the find of one or two prints in the Chelsea house matched his.

He was not denying he'd been there but not that night and Salmon was a liar. When Stabler was playing _"nice cop"_ who understood how things might have got out of control and Olivia was playing _"bad cop"._ Something often worked even with smart lawyers present because they didn't start bawling aggressive or bullying tactics quite so quickly when it came from a woman.

Eames and Goren had worked that out long ago and the difference in their size probably helped. The claim once made by a suspect he'd been physically intimidated when he decided to opt for a lawyer looked and sounded ridiculous played back on the tape. When a sixty-five inch high woman leans fractionally over the table at you and a seventy-six guy stands in the corner saying nothing. Except they both knew Goren's towering presence behind him was doing exactly that.

"Bobby?" she said as he switched off the tape. "Please tell me you are not sending for take out or eating on the subway home"

"No I'm not" he said "Honest"

She believed him on this occasion.

_**Morningside Heights**_

"Sorry" Goren hissed as he got into bed and realised he'd woken Caroline.

"You do tend to make the earth move Rob" she yawned snuggling up to him.

"Not this time of night Caro" he said looping his arm round her and burying his cheek in her hair.

"Did you find what you were looking for? Or were you just trying to memorise everything?"

He knew she was referring to the fact he'd watched those tapes over and over or sections of them at different times since he arrived to the dinner she'd held up for him.

"Uhuh" he sighed. "And who is it knows every line of _The African Queen_?"

"Better than _Casablanca_" she murmured

"Is not"

_**To be continued…**_


	28. Chapter 28

**Thursday 24****th**** June**

_**Morningside Heights**_

There are many good things about making out in the morning. Usually people are less tired, it's often very spontaneous and getting carried away when you should really be doing other things adds a _"slightly naughty"_ atmosphere to the event, which even two adults who have been around the block can enjoy. It doesn't follow everything has to be rushed and sometimes some mild urgency can work to your mutual advantage. If you can focus the urgency on each other and not your watch or a clock.

The downside as Goren knew, was that time didn't stand still outside of the passion bubble the two of you were in. With the result that the return to reality can be brutal and the morning routine suddenly has to work at twice the speed. And how long someone is in the shower and who burned the toast or used a selfish amount of the remaining milk on their cornflakes, can suddenly assume towering proportions in the irritation stakes.

He and Caro had gone from _"can't get enough of you"_ to_"can't get away from you quickly enough"_ in almost the time it took for their brains to re-locate from below their waist and get the shower running hot. The first time they had ever really fought and prompted by the one thing it's almost always a bad idea to do in the morning. Try to have a discussion about something you should have done the night before, but didn't raise because you knew you wouldn't get the undivided attention of the other person.

His_"fault"_ if they were into the game of apportioning blame, for his focus on those tapes last evening. And Caro's for thinking the issue of the invitation from her folks to spend the _Independence Day_ weekend in Virginia would a _"simple"_ one for him. One that could be settled in the time it took to open a new jar of peanut butter. Passion of a different kind took over and they both said some very mean words.

She accused him of deliberately making everything more complicated because he couldn't handle them nice or normal. And of pushing people away to make sure his life long sense of abandonment came true all over again. He told her to remember she wasn't in her damn consulting room now and implied he was really just some kind of new project to her wasn't he? Only one given bedroom privileges not bathroom ones, like a lot of the severe eating disorder cases she worked with.

But what Goren really could not forgive Caroline, was that she won the unspoken race to be out of the door first. When he barely had his shirt tucked in his pants. And she had emptied the coffee pot out. Probably on purpose. Meaning he'd needed to pick up a second cup at the subway station. It was a bad start to the day.

_**Christ & St Stephen's Episcopal Church, West 69**__**th**__** Street**_

Eames and Goren sat in the SUV across the street from the not very large, red brick, red tiled church. Whether the Huntingdon's were regular members of the congregation they doubted, but it was where the services for Ralph were being held. Services and a funeral that they knew had been scaled down in magnitude from those originally planned. When the stepson of the deceased finds himself almost front-page news and briefly mentioned in one local TV news bulletin, _"quiet and private"_ is a better approach than_"sumptuous and showy"._

As they watched mourners file out, the coffin was going into the back of regular hearse. Not the carriage drawn by six black horses they had seen on a brochure in the Huntingdon's apartment the other day. They had only dropped by because they were more or less passing at the time and it might be useful context for the future.

"Who are those people Goren?" asked Eames

"Mostly from the company I think" he replied. "Who is not here and might have been expected a few days ago is interesting. I didn't see many of those names from the flowers"

"Uhuh" said his partner. "Not so much half the social register as barely enough names to fill the back of a bus ticket. You seen enough?"

He nodded as she started the engine. "Um…think you could stop at that florist round the corner?"

"I think roses are always good for an apology or a thank you" Eames said.

"Why do they have to be for either of those things?"

"Because you barely made it through the door on time, were carrying take out coffee, you've got a grease spot on your tie, you nicked yourself shaving and you've been grouchy all morning Goren. That means before the alarm stopped ringing you were either fighting or fooling and maybe even both"

"You think we could discuss this fax from San Diego?"

Eames took the chance of checking traffic to look away and grin. "Sure. So what does your old Army buddy now works robbery down there have to say?"

**_Major Case Squad Room_**

There were times through that day the place was like Grand Central Station with people coming and going. Their little team bolstered by Stabler and Benson was extending invitations and in a few cases, handcuffs to a steady stream of people, in addition to those being spoken to all over the city. Like links in a chain or more like several as they uncovered more and more of what fast had all the makings of a major corruption scandal. Far beyond anything, as Olivia said when they were grabbing sandwiches from a tray, that Grace Webster might have imagined when she began to do some private investigation of her own. Far beyond her scope and powers to ever handle and even Benson seemed to accept they would never really have all the answers.

The answers to the questions the Webster family still had who were returning her body and that of her daughter to Pittsburgh that very day. To what extent she was motivated by good intent and driven by a possible career enhancing opportunity. Or whether there might be some truth in the story that Ray Whistler was telling. That she used his attraction to her to try and possibly succeeded, in getting information from him. And when he confronted Grace, she demanded a ridiculous sum of money for her silence and a share as a future _"business partner"_. He had incentive to try and explain away how she ended up dead but it didn't always follow self-confessed killers lied about everything. They all knew that.

It was around that time and with Logan, Wheeler and Dempsey heading for City Hall with warrants to seize certain files and arrest, if necessary, one highly placed official, they all met in the Captain's office. For him to speak with Don Cragen, the ME and for Goren and Eames to set out the bare bones of a strategy they had hatched on the move earlier. One had Theresa Randle's support from a legal point of view and her being there gave Eames nostalgia for the _"old days"._ When Ron Carver was around regularly, often frustrating them both with his demands but teaching them both a lot too.

She had almost taken up residence at one stage, going from one room to the other to discuss immunity or lesser charges in exchange for information would slot another piece into the puzzle. And they were probably just lucky it took until late afternoon for the media to get wind of what was happening. Though what was being broadcast on the TV in a corner of the squad room was still in the realms of speculation more than hard news or information.

Plus the usual rush of politicians pledging their support for the police and their commitment to _blah blah_. It was Logan said how one _"can't get in front of the camera quick enough"_ was notable by his absence. But then that was the one name at that level that kept coming up time and again and he was probably in his office or at home. Shredding paper and expecting a knock at the door any moment.

By seven he was still waiting and maybe shredding, but they had identified most of the big fish in the shoal and let go a few tiddlers and those caught up in the net by accident. Time would tell on the final weight of the catch. There were still interviews to complete, some gutting to be completed on the paperwork and a few people to be fried a little longer. Ross sent Eames and Goren home and Randle warned the court they still had a few more to dispose of that night.

**_Morningside Heights_**

His key still fitted the lock and the chain wasn't on, so Goren concluded those were good signs. Neither was there a bag packed in the hall with his name on it. And when he stepped in the kitchen a fry pan didn't fly past his head. Indeed quite the reverse as he could see Caroline making up some of her rib sauce she knew he really liked.

She turned and smiled at him. "Thank you Rob. It's cute"

He looked into the corner where a rather pathetic looking plant sat. But then he'd not had time to even find one, never mind pick out a choice specimen for himself.

"I was…well hoping for something better" he said. "It's kind of small"

"So were you once" she said wiping her hands. "You grew. It will too and it's too late for it to be flowering. It will do fine on the balcony here until I get it back to Boston"

He rather wished she didn't mention that fact right now as she slid her arms round him and they stood holding each other. Taking in the scent of her hair, the shower gel she used and given the day he had, hoping where her nose was his deodorant was cutting it as well as the makers claimed.

"When does it flower?" he asked.

"May usually. We should have had the fight last month. Then you would have seen the state flower of Virginia at it's best. It was very clever of you to think of American Dogwood"

He bent down to accept a quick, soft kiss.

"I had them check at the store Caro" he confessed. "But _Cornus florida_ sounds more grand…but misleading of course"

"Doesn't matter. It was the thought which counts" she set back on her heels. "So tell me why the purple hyacinth? Though I understand why it had to be fake"

"Supposed to mean snivelling apology" he replied and then smiled "They didn't have to look that up. I got the feeling they get asked regularly"

"How about you get changed and I'll do my snivelling apology literally? Peeling onions and jalapeno's to make you dinner?"

"A soak in the bath and beer brought to me would be nice too"

"Your wish is my command but I don't scrub backs" she laughed.

"Oh well…guess I'll survive without. Then there's something I want to talk to you about. Not just the weekend Caro. Something that's been on my mind for quite a long time now"

An hour later the dogwood was outside on the balcony bathed in late sun and they sat by the open doors with the remains of dinner on the table. The silk purple hyacinth was stuck in one of the two empty beer cans was the only thing to drink with ribs. Ribs eaten between Goren finding his way, painfully at times, to sort out and express verbally what was in his head. She letting him arrive there on his own, sifting and clarifying half formed thoughts and ideas as he went.

"What do you think Caro?"

"If you are sure that's what you want" she said taking his hand reaching over for hers.

"I'm sure"

_**To be continued…**_


	29. Chapter 29

**Friday 25****th**** June**

_**Major Case Interview Room 2**_

Behind the observation glass, Captain Don Cragen watched Goren check and double check the tape he had loaded into the machine, but with the sound inside switched off he heard nothing of the conversation between him and Eames. It was interesting to see how relaxed they were in some aspects of their preparations for what he knew was going to be a very carefully planned interview. They had the luxury of more time today than you often got, but few others equalled their reputation for this aspect of the job. He turned as the door opened and Elliot Stabler walked in.

"You sure you're okay with this Elliot?"

"I am" he replied which was a coded way of telling his boss his partner was less so.

Benson was poking her head round the interview room door to tell them their guest had arrived and Cragen found it mildly amusing to see _"his"_ detective slip his jacket off just as Goren put his on. Different interrogation styles, different training with most of Goren's coming when he wore khaki and Stabler's when he wore blue.

When she stepped through the door, Olivia had that slightly dyspeptic expression on her face, Cragen knew very well. Whether she resented the fact Major Case were going to tidy up a few loose ends on one of hers or felt it might reflect badly Cragen didn't know. If there was _"blame"_ to be apportioned some of that rested with the DA's office in the form of Mark Matthews accepting simple solutions. He was a problem Cragen would save for another day.

Elliot flicked the switch for the sound as Elizabeth Huntingdon walked in with her lawyer, still wearing black and smiled as Goren went into an overly unctuous routine of settling them down and apologising for having to use this space. Only they were somewhat crowded out with this other business. Before a slight dig of the knife as he sat down, saying of course she would know what he was talking about and why.

Then smooth as silk Eames took over on the matter of the bagged wad of cash that sat on the table. They were right so far. The prospect of getting that back would be enough incentive to get her to 1PP the day after she buried her husband and it was true that there were certain formalities to go through.

"It's as much as she can do to stop herself snatching it off the table and stuffing it in her purse" said Stabler softly.

"Her_ Chanel_ purse please Elliot" said his partner.

The three of them watched as Goren and Eames played out the strategy of first asking the routine questions she was at ease answering and then briefly introducing a note of discomfort with some observation or fact. Which made her out to be withholding information if not outright lying. Like when Eames, who had the bank records, commented on certain cash withdrawals she had made over a period of time that added up to the thirty thousand dollars taken from the safe at home. That forced her into a fairly obvious lie about why they had that much money at the apartment and stirred the lawyer to ask the relevance. When his client withdrew her own money from the bank and how much they usually kept at home was irrelevant.

Whether they anticipated that or whether Goren was a much better liar himself, the three observers didn't know. But he almost had them convinced he was genuinely concerned that perhaps Mrs Huntingdon or her late husband had been subject to some kind of extortion for longer than they had confided to the police.

But it was then they moved on, for the official record and being able to clear this into the crime statistics, to the relationship between her family and the Parkers. The killers motive and by alternating the_"good cop/bad cop"_ roles they back footed both her and the lawyer who were never sure where trouble was going to come from next.

So one minute Eames was seeming to admire her for holding together her marriage and the next asking if there was ever any written agreement between them and the Parkers to drop the claim to paternity and intellectual property theft. _And if so could they have a copy?_ Then Goren asked a series of questions about the telephone conversations she answered before he suddenly threw in _"Did your husband have a vasectomy when he was 24 to avoid fifty thousand dollar trouble like Helen Parker again?"_

That did make her mad and the lawyer told him to mind his own business and stick to what was relevant. So they did. Eames first pointing out it was odd how Parker used the Riverside project as threat since there was no _"morality clause"_ on that made it a serious one. Her partner following through with it must have been a lucky guess on Parker's part that Ralph's design made the short list. Because they double checked and that wasn't announced officially, except to the companies on the long list, until an hour after his first call.

Maurice Kessler was quick to see how things were going and advised his client to say nothing. That was when Eames revealed their doubts that she was totally telling the truth about there being no contact between them down the years. Her lack of surprise how like Ralph young John Parker turned out to be, her seeming to know Helen was killed on 9/11 and a final fact. They had a witness who would say they saw her and her husband's killer three months ago, coming out of a coffee shop on Broadway.

It was Kessler asked to step outside to speak with his client, which they briefly did. It was the first major break through and sure sign they had her and the lawyer _"on the run"._ The three SVU detectives knew that. Admit to certain _"little white lies"_ now in the hope that would satisfy the cops. Give them the victory of knowing they got something right whilst keeping the big lie a secret and hope they would then give up.

When they returned Mrs Huntingdon stiffly admitted she had bumped into John Parker quite by chance about that time. Passage of time, wounds healing, being polite and so on and they had exchanged news. Or more accurately he did, including of his own illness, his daughter's death and that of his grandson. And they would understand perhaps she might have some natural curiosity how the boy turned out. Parker had a picture in his wallet he showed her. She didn't mention it to her husband since there was no need_. But on reflection and as things turned out perhaps the man wasn't as forgiving as he seemed? Went away and brooded and saw the chance to make some more money?_

Then they went for her on how she didn't then recognise a voice she only heard three months ago and why was a linguistics expert saying that second conversation was highly artificial. And incidentally lasted almost exactly the time she had been briefed to keep the man talking._But most of all, if Ralph was insisting over her misgivings he go pay this man off with some of the cash, why didn't she call to alert them to what was happening? Which might have saved his life?_

Kessler gathered his papers "Enough Detectives. Now unless you are about to_ Miranda _my client we are leaving"

"Not today" smiled Eames. "We still have more investigations we want to carry out. Perhaps the rest of the money you were asking about earlier Mrs Huntingdon will turn up somewhere interesting?"

Goren picked her purse off the floor as if to hand it to her but then took it across the room with him.

"There is one…um…one other thing you could do to help our colleagues Mrs Huntingdon. And perhaps your son as well"

He switched the tape onto play, which showed Ray with another of the Kessler's, Stabler and Benson at SVU. The sound was off.

"We have this" said Goren looking faintly ridiculous holding onto a small purse "Because of the other business…I'll just…um…" he flicked it forward and then stopped it.

"Oh yes here it is. We noticed your son chews his nails. See? I understand why he must be quite anxious here but our impression is it's a long term habit" he handed her back the purse and held out his own hands. "I was a nail biter as a kid. My Mom tried everything but puberty seemed to cure me. Girls didn't much like boys with chewed nails…"

"I'm sure this is very interesting Mr Goren" said Elizabeth Huntingdon. "And yes Raymond has always badly bitten his nails. I'm always telling him about it. Now does that help you and more to the point my son though…"

"Yes I think it does" said Eames opening another folder.

In the observation room Cragen turned to his detectives. "I have to go but I think Captain Ross might like to see the rest of this if he's available don't you?"

**_To be continued…_**


	30. Chapter 30

**Friday 25****th**** June**

_**Major Case Interview Room 2**_

"We know your son confessed to killing both Grace and Tammy Webster" began Eames. "But we're not convinced he really killed the little girl"

She put a photograph on the table "These are the bruises left on the girl's throat. See here?"

"I'd rather not" the woman replied and almost making to leave. "Maurice?"

"Just one moment" said the lawyer. "Ray is in very serious trouble Elizabeth. If this could help? Go on"

Eames indicated with her pen. "It's this mark here Mr Kessler. A small crescent shape indicates a nail mark. With Ray's bitten to the quick neither our ME nor our CSU people could work out how he could have made that mark. And now we know from your client they were bitten at the time"

"And it is contemporary with the other bruising?" enquired the lawyer. "Couldn't be something happened earlier?"

"No doubt" said Eames "They are consistent and when I put my hand like this you can see how the marks from the finger and it line up. Chances of that happening through two separate incidents within hours of each other must be billions to one"

"But Ray confessed to it" said his mother.

"Eventually" shrugged Goren. "Question is why would he?"

"It must be that Justin Salmon, Maurice" said Mrs Huntingdon. "I told your brother it was he led Raymond astray on that land deal business set this terrible affair off"

"It can't be" said Eames. "His alibi checks out completely but we always suspected there were two people at the house at some point that night"

"I know something of the case" said Kessler. "To do with furniture or something?"

"Yes" said Eames spreading out a few photographs "Even my partner here couldn't lift this dresser on his own"

"You were there? I though this was a…what do they call them…special something police? That's where I went to take Ray fresh clothes"

"Special Victim's Unit" said Goren. "Not unusual for two squads to get an alert Mrs Huntingdon. Case assigned later. As you can see it was a very thorough search. We know now what it was for, but we suspected something like it at the time. What was missing from the house for example"

"And" Eames continued. "The time it must have taken. To turn out pockets on clothes. See? Even every dish looks to have been lifted out individually. All this with no noise to alert the neighbour and according to your son Mrs Huntingdon he arrived at the Long Island cottage around one am. I suppose it's possible, but we are just not sure he had time to do all this on his own and be there at that time"

"I see"

Goren took a quarter from his pocket and began to fiddle with it on the table. "Is there anyone you can think of Mrs Huntingdon? Who Ray might have had with him? Or perhaps called when things got out of control with Grace Webster? Someone he knew he could trust? To help him?"

"No one who comes to mind immediately. Do you think this will make a difference Maurice?"

"It could"

Goren spun the coin. "Of course there could be another explanation for that search being so thorough. That before he left Ray or let's call them, _AN Other_, realised they had dropped or lost something. Had to look all over again? For that" he spun it again.

"Like if I dropped this or something a similar size and shape. I would have thought it rolled under a piece of furniture or gone down the side of a sofa when I was lifting the cushions up"

"I'm always finding quarters down mine" said Eames. "Aren't you Mrs Huntingdon?"

"No" she said stiffly.

"And you can't think of anyone Ray might be protecting?" enquired her own lawyer.

"I said not. Perhaps if I think at home…this has all been…I'm sure you will understand" she reached in her purse for a tissue and made a nose blowing sound.

Goren spun the coin again. "Something else might help you Mr Kessler. I'm sure true justice is what we all want. Even for Ray. When you review the tapes you might notice how he is able to be quite specific about his argument with Grace but never mentions Tammy. I know he was still trying to deny it led to murder at that stage but…" he trailed off.

He spun the quarter again before he stood up leaving it on the table. "Then he confessed quite suddenly didn't he? Just before he went into court. In the clothes you took him. Wonder why he did that?"

He paced at the end of the table chewing his thumbnail. "There I go again Mrs Huntingdon reverting to bad habits. Good thing my Mom can't see me._ Bobby quit that right now _she'd say. Sadly she can't. Was a troubled lady my mother Mrs Huntingdon"

"Really?"

"Yes. But she did a lot for me and I would have done anything for her. She had a mental illness. Would sometimes take things from stores. Not meaning to. Her state of mind and her medication. Several times I took items back. Said I did it or put them back on the shelves. You know? To cover up for her? That's what sons are supposed to do for their Mom's isn't it? We turn to them in times of trouble and then our Moms…"

"Oh please spare us any more Detective" sighed Mrs Huntingdon screwing the tissue into a useless ball.

"Sure" he shrugged going to the door to open it and then stepping back.

"Could it be a woman do you think? That might have been with Ray that night? Might have dropped…let's think…an earring perhaps or a brooch…do women wear those these days Alex?"

"Some do" said his partner. "That's a nice one Mrs Huntingdon"

"Detectives" said the lawyer with a sigh. "I'm sure we appreciate what you've said but I think we are done here"

"Not entirely" said Eames. "We'd like permission to search your apartment ma'am"

"What the hell for?" she snapped

"For anything Ray might have left there in connection with this land business" she smiled.

"We didn't like to bother you yesterday"

"No you may not"

"Why?" said Goren standing by the table arms folded. "I can't see it will get him in any more trouble and we might find something else to help him. Or is there something we might find that worries you Mrs Huntingdon? Something like this?"

A black marble rolled across the steel table. It was one of his from when he was a kid his Mom had kept.

Even Eames watched it until she suddenly heard a sound of movement, Goren make a strange, soft sound and say quietly, "I see it does"

When Alex turned round blood wasn't just pouring from between Bobby's fingers, it was spraying out all over the woman she realised had stabbed him.

_**To be continued…**_


	31. Chapter 31

**Friday 25****th**** June**

_**Major Case Interview Room 2**_

All hell broke lose as Danny Ross and Elliot Stabler burst through the door together. Ross diving in the direction of Elizabeth Huntingdon who had something metallic in her hand. In the fraction of a second she looked, the impression Eames got that it wasn't a knife.

Stabler headed the way she did. For her partner she realised wasn't fainting to the floor but almost putting himself there deliberately as blood poured from a wound on his right thigh. And was grabbing at his own tie as Elliot said, _"I've got you soldier"_

Eames threw herself down beside them as she realised Stabler's own tie was already off and he was tying it round Goren's leg. Of all of them there and combat experienced, he must have known almost immediately what was happening. Knew arterial spray when he saw it and that direct pressure alone wasn't going to keep Goren from bleeding to death very quickly. That the damage a tourniquet could do long term as he kept twisting and twisting the tie until it seem almost to bite into Bobby's leg, was preferable to bleeding to death.

Eames didn't really hear the noise outside, what was happening in the corner or see someone pulling Kessler out of the room. She was just doing what Elliot was telling her to do in not lifting Goren's head and undoing his shirt at the neck. And remembering. Remembering the one time she saw this before. Eloise Kittridge dead on a bathroom floor from a cut to the femoral artery.

_And Goren._

_Damn him for telling her almost casually how quickly she would have become unconscious. _

_Damn him for adding how soon death would have followed._

_Damn him for knowing stuff like that. _

_And damn him if he was going to die like this._

"Stay with me Goren" she ordered him. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you"

"What's that?" he said almost dreamily like a man who had resigned himself to his death.

She almost had to shout above the strange sounds that woman was making as she was almost carried away by two uniforms and the noise in the hall of Logan yelling to people to keep out the way. First aid equipment was coming in.

"_The White Album_ Bobby?" she said "Remember?"

"Yeah" Goren smiled as Ross's hands joined Elliot's getting wet and slippery with blood and between them they got something else around his leg.

"It would be in my top ten. Ahead of _The Joshua Tree_ but behind _Born In The USA_. Is that right Goren?"

"Dunno. But _The Boss_ is the best thing…" he swallowed hard. "To…to ever come out of New Jersey" he said reaching for her hand.

"No that's the New Jersey Turnpike" she said to complete the local saying and holding tight to his hand. "Stay with us Bobby! Come on partner! Focus now"

"Don't cry Alex" he said softly. "Hey Elliot? Thanks"

Stabler's face was white as he tightened the second tourniquet. "I'm sure as shit not getting stuck with your paperwork on this one Goren…will someone get something to elevate his leg…"

Someone outside was yelling, _"Where are the paramedics?"_

Goren's eyes fluttered. Then closed with an expression of total peace on his face. It was one Eames had never seen before.

_**The End ???**_

_**  
**_


	32. Chapter 32

**Saturday 26****th**** June**

_**Morningside Heights**_

Eames woke with the sort of start came with a dream or a nightmare ending and with the sensations in her head you usually got with a _Grade A _hangover. And the same time long time delay it took for your senses to conclude it was morning and decide where you were. Caroline Reese's guest room.

She checked her watch on the side and estimated she got perhaps five hours very bad sleep. After hours at _The Beekman Downtown Hospital _and then at least one she and Caroline sat in her kitchen picking at food they knew they should really eat and talking. Hearing no sounds within the apartment, she lay there as her head ran through the jumble of scenes from yesterday. More conscious of the emotions she was feeling than what was happening. And impressions of people.

Elliot Stabler sitting on the floor in the hall when the paramedics arrived and cleared the room apart from Ross. As white faced as Goren and as bloody by then. Like her, in a state of shock and later when he came to the hospital, in clean clothes, accepting her hug but embarrassed by any more gratitude he probably did save Goren's life.

Liv hovering with sweet drinks for them both and eventually pissing Alex off, with her almost cloying sympathy and unwanted suggestions of people _"she should talk to"_. Something she wasn't in the mood for and it was Megan Wheeler did the things unasked she really needed. Had the car keys ready to drive her to the ER in the wake of the ambulance when they finally stabilised her partner enough to move him. And later, pitching back up with her purse forgotten in the rush, which contained her address book. Where she had the list of Goren's next of kin.

Two aunts' and an uncle Eames knew he wasn't that close to and various cousins, one of which he was. Over the years the stresses of the Goren household had led each side to blame the other's relative for the problems and they barely spoke to each other. Wheeler too had gone to her locker and packed her things to stay overnight at the hospital if need be and to change out of the bloody clothes Eames had become increasingly conscious of. And which were getting her and Danny Ross strange looks in the waiting area.

Mike Logan, who in the immediate aftermath, seemed to take effortless charge with Ross either in the interview room and then the ambulance with Goren. Finding things for people to do, sending away some tactless early arrivals from the Chief of D's team and what looked like IAD. It was he turned up at _The Beekman_ to officially bag and take away Goren's clothes once he was in surgery. To re-assure her and even make her smile when he said not many cops could have been injured in the line by a comb.

That was the first time Eames realised that woman had stabbed Goren with a steel tail variety though she didn't much care why she did. Guessed her lawyers would find some well-paid shrink to say she couldn't help it and dig up some old trauma from Oakland. In her heart Eames knew those things did affect people, but right then she didn't care. Over the years she had pieced together from different things just what a tough life Goren had, was still having in some ways, but apart from that one blip he seemed to hold it together. Didn't go round stabbing people.

Then there was Danny Ross, who for a time she resented. For usurping what she saw as her place at Goren's side as they took him away in the ambulance. Only later did she begin to feel sorry for him. He was still blood stained, when Logan fetched word he was wanted back at HQ, where no doubt some sort of enquiry would soon be underway about what happened. What responsibility he had as the Captain, the guy who carried the can for what went wrong and no doubt in time, new procedures would be issued to prevent a repeat.

Only later did Eames feel grateful to Ross. For what by chance and deliberate decision he had spared her. It was when she and Caro finally got a doc to speak to them as they were moving Goren out of the theatre. He told them what Ross had not. How her partner had arrested for a time in the ambulance and Eames knew very well she could not have gone through thinking Bobby was dead for a second time. Or coped with that news had Ross told her when she first rushed into the ER with Megan.

That was one of the things she sat with Caro in the kitchen talking about. The sense Eames had from the moment she saw Bobby bleeding everywhere that she was somehow failing. Both practically and emotionally to respond as a cop should. All the training and experience vanishing in a flash when it was needed most. It was somehow her should have seen it coming and stopped it, her should have done more for him and her should be holding herself together.

As she lay in bed hearing what might be the sound of Caroline getting up, Eames couldn't recall what she had said in response or indeed if she said anything at all. Maybe that was what made her good at her job or maybe she wasn't thinking that way at all. The one thing she did remember was the single emotion they agreed that they shared above all other. Blind anger. Not at anyone or anything but the invisible _"it"_ that allowed such things. They never said so but they must both fear this would _FUBAR_ his life all over, just as Goren was re-building it successfully.

Eames suspected Caroline knew all about that and maybe more than she did and the more she saw of her the more she liked her. Even in the grim circumstances she had more of a sense of humour than some of the smart women she met Bobby had dated. Some of them came over as maybe a bit superior and _"stiff"_ and she'd seen last weekend on the beach Goren had little chance of getting away with some of his own _"seriousness"_ with her. Eames was never always sure whether all that was genuine or put on. Nor, for all her calm at the hospital, was Caro above admitting she wasn't all self contained and independent. One of the reasons Caro suggested she stay was that she didn't much want to be alone either that night, even if the doctor was being as re-assuring, as he was frank.

Eames got up and went over the hall to the main bathroom first. Still seemed a bit odd to see Goren's old leather jacket hanging in the hall or some of his shirts on a drier in there. How many of his things were around the apartment, like a Thai cookbook in the kitchen she got him one Christmas and how much his _"mark"_ was on the place. Like when Caro muttered and moved the milk in the icebox last night.

Eames knew it was there because that was the position he kept his own. And it was one of Goren's quirks he'd not think twice about moving hers when he was at her apartment. Not seem to understand why moving things in other people's iceboxes was so _"weird"_ and so annoying. But then it was only as she lay in bed hoping he was going to pull through this okay, that Eames realised she'd never actually been to the home of a woman where her partner was clearly spending a large part of his life.

It felt a bit like an invasion of the privacy he almost guarded and it wasn't her fault as she made her way down the hall, she now knew which side of the bed he slept. It was Caroline left the master suite door open so the almost neat, un-slept in side nearest it to it was visible. Which was curious. Had she gone home last night and with Dave away on some weekend conference she'd have hogged the middle as usual.

"Morning" she said realising Caroline had on an identical cotton bathrobe to the one she lent her, just in a different colour.

"Do I look as bad as I feel?"

"There's no right answer to that Alex" she smiled. "Except to say I know I do. Coffee?"

"Please. Lots and no milk" she paused "I take it…um…no calls"

"Like you would have slept through them? And no. Which has to be a good thing right?"

They had each been allowed to see him for a few minutes not that Goren knew they were there. He'd been brought round after the surgery but then given more sedation to help keep him still and quiet. And they seemed to have his leg contained and restrained in all manner of contraptions. Apart from it needing to heal, the doctor had explained their concern short and longer term would be for his femoral nerve that sat so close to the artery in places. It didn't appear badly damaged by the attack but even very precise and planned surgery could result in temporary and sometimes permanent numbness in part of the limb. The procedure by its very urgency wasn't of that kind and they'd also left in a drain to prevent damaging fluid build up round it afterwards.

The chances were good he'd be fine, but Caro knew and so did Eames there was a chance of a loss of function would never allow Goren to return to full duty. Quite how he'd cope with that who knew but the mobility and fitness demands for any cop were not like those for many other jobs. The doc had also warned them about the heart monitor. It was standard practice but they would be giving him a fairly full cardiac workup. To be sure the arrest was related to the attack and not symptomatic of some previously undiagnosed condition. He'd also asked them questions about that. Any symptoms they might have noticed as the two people saw most of him at work and outside it.

"Oh I need this" Alex sipped her coffee standing with her back against the sink. "Is your home in Boston an apartment Caro?"

"No. Small house. Why being able to rent this place with just the balcony was nice. I miss the garden even if it is only the size of this kitchen"

"I'd like one but even finding a garden apartment is mad in this city. Not sure I want the longer hike to the suburbs it would take to be able to afford a house. Days are long enough as…" she stopped as the phone rang and they both looked at each other.

Eames saw Caro's face was as apprehensive as her own as she went to the wall phone. And was so grateful for the way she said things and with her face let her know right off there was nothing to worry about. Long before the call was over.

"Just routine, comfortable night phrases" Caro shrugged. "Even ate a little. And the only thing he's asked for them to say? Could one of us bring some clothes to the hospital? So he's not stuck in a hospital gown with his butt hanging out the back?"

_**To be continued…**_


	33. Chapter 33

**Sunday 27****th**** June**

_**Room 427, The Beekman Hospital**_

Eames managed to restrict her greeting to a quick hug and a kiss to Goren's rough cheek. The temptation was to hold him so tight he'd be at risk of suffocation and she was acutely conscious when she touched him though the pads from the heart monitor were gone, he was wearing nothing on his top half. Silly, but she'd rarely seen him _sans shirt_ and certainly never touched him without one.

"You look good" she said

His look in return was sceptical but he still said. "Thanks. And I'm sorry I missed you yesterday"

"You were asleep and I know they were still pumping you with medication" Eames said moving the chair so she could face him propped up in the bed. "It made for a very sensible conversation for once"

"They have good drugs here" Goren shifted a little on the pillows. "Not as good as some I had, but still good"

Eames smiled "I can believe that too. You seem less wired and trussed up as well"

"Uhuh" he scratched a red patch on his chest. "Think I might be allergic to the sticky substance on those pads. Must be made of cat. And they needed some of the steel work was round my leg for a building project somewhere"

She looked at him a long moment. "You don't have to make an effort for me you know Bobby"

"I'm not" he reached out his hand and took hers.

"Honest I'm not Alex. Can't say I'm pleased to be here but it could have been very bad. Sorry I scared you so much. Again"

"I forgive you" she gave his hand a squeeze and let it go.

"So how are things really?"

"Better than they were" Goren gestured. "I've got some feeling right through my leg which is a real mixed blessing. And they let me get up for a little while. Just to sit and have my lunch and at least use crutches to get to the bathroom"

He paused and then muttered. "Restored a little of what was left of my dignity by then"

"That is good news. About your leg…and the dignity thing"

"I wouldn't mind if the nurses didn't look like they were twelve" he growled. "And please don't say they've seen it all before like Caro did"

"They have…or something very similar" Eames laughed

"Anyway forget that. Caught you on TV this morning"

"Oh" Eames blushed. "Camera adds ten pounds doesn't it?"

"Didn't notice" said Goren. "I was more impressed by how efficient and uber-stern you looked Alex. Must be something very satisfying about escorting a City Councillor from his home in front of the New York media. Only sorry I wasn't there myself"

"Bet you enjoyed every minute. And kept switching channels to see it over" she laughed recalling some of the things her partner had said of William Ashton down the years.

"That would be petty and sadistic" he said and then grinned. "And yes I did. So is he charged yet?"

"We're supposed to talk about how many cards and nice flowers you got and the food. Not work"

"Yes I did. Very kind of people and the food is fine. So?"

"So we probably won't have much but the IRS are waiting in the wings, the Electoral Commission are hovering and both are licking their lips. When I left I think a resignation statement was being drafted"

"What about Mrs Huntingdon?"

Eames looked up quickly.

"Ross dropped by for a while earlier" he shrugged. "Had the boys with him. Told me Skoda had cleared her and she was back in SVU hands"

"Okay then"

Eames told him how a jet bracelet missing one of its stones had been found in a search of the Dakota Building apartment. That CSU had matched the glue residue on it to the substance on the one found at the house among the compost. Distinctive because it was a type hardly used these days for that kind of work and thus dating it to an old piece. She was still saying nothing but they could now place her at the scene and Benson and Stabler were fairly sure his lawyer would persuade Ray Whistler to help himself. Confirm what they were aiming to tell a court if he didn't. That after the initial attack on Grace Webster he'd called his mother in a state of panic. Been advised to finish her off if she wasn't already dead and then arrived herself. That it was her who strangled Tammy and then helped him in the search of the house, then became one for something else before she left.

"We're not moving yet on the other thing" Eames concluded "See how things pan out and we both know that's a weaker case"

"Yeah but can you imagine what she must have thought that night?" Goren mused. "There she was all nicely teed up ready to have her husband killed and then she discovers Junior is up to his neck in something else"

"I'm assuming they didn't hold off either because John Parker would not or because he knew his ability to do it a week or two down the line could be much less. He was dying. Wonder if she knew he intended to off himself?"

"My hunch is not" Goren rested his head back in his hands. "But she knew so long as he didn't get caught, which was highly unlikely with her saying she recognised no-one from the hotel pictures, he'd be dead very soon. If he kept his mouth shut she was free and clear. But I was thinking about that…"

"You're supposed to be getting better"

"I am. It was the money set me thinking. It's clear she's obsessed by it but I wonder if at the end Parker double-crossed her. That the original plan was for her to get it back somehow? He had reason to dislike her too and maybe worked out what might hurt her most"

"I see where you're going Bobby. That leaving the ten grand where he did, Parker perhaps guessed that might get reported. You know something? He must have known we'd link him and Ralph through the gun. That killing himself meant we'd know he killed Ralph, find out his motive and maybe begin to suspect her? Used the same phones to point to how phoney it all was"

"I almost like to think so. Revenge is a dish best served cold they say. And if that's right, John Parker certainly did that. From a mortuary storage bin" he winced as he shifted his leg a little. "Real Greek tragedy"

"You need something?" she asked quietly. "Something for the pain?"

"No thanks. To be expected, good sign and all those other medical phrases and after…the less of that stuff…"

He trailed off knowing he wasn't exactly scared but was mindful of prescription painkillers and not wanting to risk that road again.

"Sure" said Eames who could more or less read his mind at that moment and had always suspected Goren misused drugs at some point in that dark time. If only popping too many prescribed pills.

"One thing you didn't tell me…though I think in a way you did just before…"

"Just before I got stabbed" Goren said. "It's okay to say Alex…and remind me to tell you what Mike said when he called me earlier. So go on"

"When exactly did you start to see that woman as the possible second person at the Chelsea House?"

He tried to sit up more "Could you?"

Eames re-arranged his pillows more comfortably.

"Thank you. Not sure it was ever one thing. The stone always said more woman than man assuming it had something to do with it" he scratched his stubble. "Then at some point I realised the Huntingdon's met and married in one of the states where jet is found. Not that common to see it and a piece that size, probably from an item with others wasn't likely to come cheap"

"Which was why you phoned Jack Goodchild? Your buddy grew up in Vail and still has family there?"

"Uhuh. Like we said we could have checked old directories for jewellery stores were around then and still are but only someone who lived there would know which ones might have sold items like that" he gave her a little smile. "Wonder if she would have fallen for the story we planned to tell her?"

"A jewellery store in Colorado checking lots of old receipts" she had to smile then frowned. "Preferable to what happened. So is that it?"

"Not totally. You saw it too at the time Alex. It was only going over and over the tapes and wondering who Ray seemed to be protecting, why he suddenly pleaded guilty, it all made sense"

Eames thought a moment. "When he was arrested. Came running calling for Mommy. I see now why she was so keen to shut you up on that tack. When you started to describe how boys turn to their mothers…that's when you knew you'd got her…that you could nod me in to raise the permission to search her apartment"

"Yes"

"Even so…that stupid stunt with the marble Goren" she hissed.

"You realise if I hadn't been so fixed on that myself I might have spotted it wasn't a fresh tissue coming out of her purse"

"That what you intend to tell Beavis and Butthead from the Chief's office when they speak to you?" he teased her.

"No I intend to tell them what I told you before" she scolded him. "That I always knew a trick like that would get us into trouble one day. Get you into trouble"

"Had a good run though didn't we?"

"Just what sort of pills are they feeding you Goren?" she muttered.

"Lots of perfect hind sight with a hefty dose of if it could be worse"

"Hmm…so what did Mike have to say? Though I expect I'll regret asking"

"Just called to see if I felt up to receiving Beavis and Butthead tomorrow. To tell them how a suspect got close to combing my bikini line"

Eames couldn't stop herself snorting with laughter, though she was perfectly straight faced when she said. "I knew I'd rather not know"

"Then you won't want to know he's bringing me _Playboy _either. Said since my leg is looking okay and my heart checked out I'll need to verify all other systems are working"

"He's incorrigible"

"He's okay" he yawned. "Excuse me"

"I'm tiring you"

"No you're not. It's so hot in this place and I guess it's maybe the shot they gave me starting to kick in. Dignity was damn painful if I'm honest Alex"

"I know" she gave his hand a pat. "You get some rest and I should be going. Dave is back in a couple of hours"

"You must go then. Thanks for coming Alex"

"I'll see you soon" she said helping him get comfortable.

She gave his forehead a kiss and said, "Behave now Bobby or I'll have them give you a bed bath with a pan-scourer"

_**To be continued…**_


	34. Chapter 34

**Monday 28****th**** June**

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case**_

It felt very strange to be in with Ross on her own for the weekly supervision and it didn't surprise Eames for all sorts of reasons, that he sent for her first. The big gap across the desks from her was about more than the size of her partner. He gave her coffee and just seemed to check out quietly how she was after the events of last week.

Then Ross set down his coffee cup. "Best we can expect is for Bobby to be away for three weeks. That's assuming he responds to the physical therapy and is passed fit"

"That was what Caro Reese told me last evening was the latest opinion" said Eames. "I just hope he doesn't come back too soon…especially after…"

"Especially after last time" the Captain finished off the sentence she had avoided.

"I somewhat doubt that lady will let him and many things are…different. But Bobby's absence does open up a possibility I've been thinking about for some time Alex"

She watched Ross shift some rosters on his desk, counted to three and took a deep breath of _"new carpet" _air before she spoke.

"Captain? I hope you're not about to say that you are…"

"Going to split you two up permanently?"

"Yes" she muttered knowing it was in his power to do and that he'd almost certainly considered it before.

"Of course not Eames" Ross shrugged. "Who the hell would I find to even consider working with you?"

Eames grinned at him as his face cracked for a moment and then he went on.

"No it's just with Bill due some vacation leave and since she seemed to fit fine with you, I thought you could work with Faith for a week or two. Won't do her any harm and probably a lot of good. She could learn a lot from you Alex"

"Thank you sir. Yes that sounds good"

"Done then" Ross peered at his papers. "Of course Carol is due on maternity I doubt we'll get cover for…so if Bobby is out longer or finds it tough going I'll pair Bill with Roy and leave you as a three for a while. Dempsey could learn something from Goren too and you will be there to make sure it's the right things"

**Tuesday 29****th**** June**

_**Room 427, The Beekman Hospital**_

Goren paused for a long moment and signed the paper before folding it into the envelope.

Caro finished reading the cards that had arrived that day and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sure there's nothing else you want me to bring in for you Rob?"

"Don't think so" he said handing her the envelope. "Only that book on Jefferson I was reading…but I think that's at my place so don't trail over there for it"

"I'll give Lewis a call if it is. Ask him to bring it when he comes in tomorrow"

There was a brief knock and one of those pubescent young nurses came in.

"Did you take your medication Mr Goren?"

"Yes I did"

"Then I'll be back in a moment to help you with your bath and into bed"

As the door closed Caro smiled and took his hand. "Think that's a hint I should go"

"Take a cab Caro. Not the subway" he said kissing her fingers.

"Don't fuss" she knelt down by the chair to reach for his neck and to kiss him softly. "I'm the one should be worrying. Leaving you in the hands of Nurse Jailbait there"

"I'd rather…" he chewed her mouth briefly. "Be in your hands"

"Hmm. I might be tempted to do more than put you to bed"

"Even better" his hand was straying from round her back to the front.

She took hold of it. "Cut it out. You're an invalid"

"More reason to lie on my back and let you do the work then" he murmured.

**Wednesday 30****th**** June**

_**Room 427, The Beekman Hospital**_

Mike Logan flicked through the pile of magazines beside Goren's bed as a physical therapist built like a brick outhouse and less attractive than one, helped him back onto it. He could see Bobby was able to take more weight on his leg, which didn't seem so heavily strapped under his track pants and he was in more pain than he was letting on.

"Your painkiller is there and I'll be back to do your therapy before supper" she said.

It sounded more of a threat than a promise to Mike as he quit the highly eclectic selection of reading material and the door closed.

"Need more water Bobby?"

"No thanks this is fine"

He took the pill with a sigh and laid back a little, feeling the sweat damp of pain and discomfort under his t-shirt from the session in the physio department.

"Brought you this" said Logan handing him _Playboy_ as threatened and then lolling into the chair. "I was told the therapist they assigned you was hot. Either that or Elliot needs glasses"

Goren recalled the slightly awkward visit with the SVU detective the other day. It wasn't that he found it hard to thank the guy for saving his life and as far as he was concerned, all that past shit between them was where it should be. Buried with little Stacy Ridout. But Stabler was maybe sick of hearing it or like him found thanks easier to give than receive. So after a few stiff words they discussed his kids, places _Uncle Sam_ had posted them and argued baseball. Until Julie turned up to give him therapy.

"She was" he muttered. "I think they switched to Maureen as my incentive to be out of here by Friday"

"She would be mine" said Logan helping himself to some chocolates someone sent or brought in. "Though if they are saying Friday that's good news"

"Uhuh. I suppose you bought this for the article on _Ten Gadgets Every Modern Man Should Have_" Goren said turning to the centrefold. "They can't be real. Either that or someone worked out how to defy gravity"

"She's for the hand held gadget you were born with" winked Logan.

Goren set the magazine aside. "After forty minutes with Maureen I'm numb below the waist and not for a good reason. So what's new?"

"Apart from the view from my desk being a lot better?" Logan reached into his jacket. "I brought over your statement to be signed and a few other things relating to your sick leave and so on"

"Thanks Mike" he took them and pulled the tray table over had the paper and a half finished crossword on it. "Do help yourself to chocolate by the way"

"Ungh" said Logan with his mouth already full again. "The fruit is better for you anyway"

Goren flicked through the sheets initialling every paragraph.

"What there is left of it. Megan and Alex ate their way through a large part of that basket yesterday lunchtime"

"You haven't worked it out have you? Hospital visiting is not about the patient, it's how much of a good time the visitors can have"

"I never found it that way" Goren signed the statement and dated it.

"Shit" said Logan. "I'm sorry Bobby. I didn't think"

"Forget it Mike. I didn't mean that like it might have sounded" he shrugged. "It was a fact of my life for a long time. Or that part of it"

"I know" said his colleague quietly. "Speaking of your life Randle has confirmed they are charging that bitch with attempted murder. They'll try to plead it down of course"

"I expect they will. To be honest I hadn't thought too much about it"

"I would have" Mike muttered. "You're a cop Goren and a damn good one, much as it pains me to say it. And we both know that makes a difference, even before words have been dropped in the DA's ear by the Chief and I don't doubt the Federation"

"We had this discussion before Mike" Goren said mildly. "You know I don't hold to the view what we do makes us different to a cab driver gets stabbed for the money he's carrying. Shouldn't make a difference in prosecution decisions or sentencing either"

"I know. All equal under the law. I remember. Its views like that make you so popular with cops in certain quarters of 1PP and corners of _Roark's_ on Friday nights Bobby"

"Not looking to be voted as the most popular boy in school" Goren said, signing the last paper and handing it back.

"Is there anything you need?"

"No thanks" he sighed

"I'll let you rest Bobby" Logan stood up and they locked hands for a moment.

"I need it with Maureen due back. I swear she's trying to make sure I can leave this place able to get my ankles round the back of my head"

"Ouch" laughed Mike. "Of course I know when a woman can do that it's…"

Goren told his colleague he didn't believe a word, to _"go away",_ though that was not the phrase he used and when he was gone turned briefly to studying the classified ads.

**Thursday 1****st**** July**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

"Alex! Bobby! I mean Faith" called Ross from his office. "Could you step in here please?"

Eames looked up from where she was just signing off on the paperwork in connection with the Huntingdon blackmail case. Teresa Randle or someone in her office had decided to run with that after all. For reasons that might be quite clever tactically, if the DA's got away with their plan, but one she wasn't sure Goren would approve.

They had originally indicated an intention to go to trial on the attempted murder of Goren in conjunction with the killing of Grace and Tammy Webster, where that horrible woman and her son would be co-accused. Because the evidence was so damning on the stabbing, her lawyers rightly saw that would prejudice a jury against her on the other charge. Someone who can stab a cop in NYPD's HQ building would have little thought about strangling a small child.

But once _Kessler & Co_ got the expected severance by a judge, Randle had gone to the detention facility to charge her with the conspiracy to kill her husband. Intended to make the argument the two things were linked because Elizabeth Huntingdon tried to kill a cop during an interview originally about the blackmail/murder. It might work. However things turned out, it was highly unlikely the bitch would see daylight again. And the bail hearing Ross had gone to was an almost foregone conclusion.

Across the desks from her, young Faith looked up a little startled they were in some kind of trouble.

"Get your coat Dempsey" said the older woman with a hint of a smile. "He's waving a green slip. Looks like we've got our first case together"

"Great Alex…I mean Eames" she said wondering when she would work out the right time to use first and family names.

It was one of those things about her and Bobby Goren no one seemed totally sure about.

_**To be continued…**_


	35. Chapter 35

**Saturday 3****rd**** July**

_**Goren's Apartment, Brooklyn**_

He'd made it out of bed, to the bathroom and then to the kitchen with the aid of the stick and most important, without waking Caro. They'd both had a restless night his first one home. Not because he was in much pain but because they'd swapped sides of the bed so his injured right leg was on the _"outside"._ Less chance of her rolling on it or accidentally catching the still very sore area on the inner part of his thigh with her knee, which often slid there as they slept.

Odd how you got used to one side or the other with a particular person though he'd always let the lady have first pick, irrespective of his slight preference for how he and Caro fixed things. _Strange thing time_, Goren concluded hobbling to the hall and back into the kitchen. With the last box of his Mom's things. It only seemed yesterday they first slept together and in one way, he thought himself lucky there was ever a second time. First time they made love and he'd gone out like a proverbial light afterwards. After going off like a 4th July firecracker with a very short fuse. Two things only seemed to bother him next morning.

Goren set the box on the table. He decided in the hospital to finish the job today that had waited months. At his home he'd be better able to tolerate the enforced _"idleness"_ with his own things around him and with Lewis not far away, he'd offered to drive him to the remaining therapy sessions he could do at his own local medical centre. Hopefully, by the middle of next week, he'd be up to walking it or at least driving himself.

He limped back to the table with some coffee and pushed to one side the pack of cigarettes and lighter. A week in hospital had probably cured him of that again though temptation was still calling to him. Goren lifted out a fat envelope must be years old addressed to his Mom but that was scrubbed out and _"Frank and Robbie's Report Cards"_ written on it. Exactly what it did contain and the content at times, a source of friction between himself and his brother. Not his fault he was maybe born a bit smarter but most of Frank's trouble was he got the lazy gene as well. He put Frank's to the right, where everything due to be consigned to the trash was going.

He'd given his brother the first chance at Carmel Ridge to take what in a way was _"his" _or things of particular sentiment and if Frank chose not to take them, so be it. Goren was done with covering for him, feeling he was in some way to blame for everything went wrong in his older sibling's life and if he turned up in future he'd find the _"money faucet"_ reduced to a trickle compared with times in the past. To the left went his report cards for the reason that they mattered to Mom. He read part of the one on top he almost knew by heart anyway. Of five-year-old Robert's quite precocious cognitive abilities, not always matched by his social skills in play with other children. His shyness and how he did a lovely finger painting of flowers.

The bundle of postcards tied with a rather worn and dirty blue ribbon was certainly going to the left. From the day the US Army decided his then long hair could hit the floor in the camp _"butcher's shop",_ as they all referred to barbers must have trained on sheep, he'd sent them twice a week to Mom. Missing only a few times when he was in the middle of some jungle or a desert on exercise or deployment. Sometimes he'd get back to civilisation and mail half a dozen at one time.

They really were like a travel brochure of the sights, famous and mundane, of the USA and the world. They were _"his"_ history as Goren found the one of _"The Beheading of St John"_ sent from Valetta. Read what he'd said to Mom of the intense impact that painting had on him. Filling one wall of the medieval chapter house in the cathedral. Similar words to the ones he used years later and Caro had when they discussed it the first time they met.

Next out were four rather kitsch ornaments. He'd probably thought the little girl with flowers either quite pretty when he was nine or embarrassingly _"girly"_. Goren didn't remember which; only that he'd bought it with money he saved from his irregular allowance in a household where money for essentials was often in irregular supply. From that and cash he'd earned from odd jobs round the neighbourhood during that summer vacation. Finally bought a week before his mother's birthday.

It went to the left. It was part of him and the other three went to the right. He was as indifferent to those as the man who bought them. Gifts were often used to re-ingratiate himself with Mom and Goren was sure one appeared the afternoon after a hang over induced casual smack had split his lip.

He'd moved on to an envelope of loose photographs when he heard the sounds told him Caro was up. Those he was sorting into three piles. To keep, to send to his aunts and uncle to do with as they chose and one lot for the trash. He had no interest in Frank's 3rd grade class picture but as one of Christmas mainly featured his cousins, it was up to them to decide its fate.

Goren had reached one included him when he must be about three when he sensed her come into the room and he made to move.

"Sit" Caro said.

Her hands on his shoulders pushed him gently back into the chair. Before she dropped a quick kiss on the top of his head.

"Did you wake up in pain Rob?"

"No" he lied and then corrected that a little. "Bit sore. I'll wait until I've eaten to take one of those pills"

"That has to be you on the left" she said running her fingers through the back of his hair. "Not quite the same colour it was but…"

"Thanks" he muttered.

"See? I knew you must have built sandcastles one time in your life"

"Guess so" he said setting to the left a picture of the four of them when they all looked happy on a beach.

He reached back for her hand. "Sorry we missed going to see your folks this weekend sweetie"

"You fixed an extreme way of getting out of it Rob" she said. "But the invitation is still there…perhaps we'll go when you are done with the therapy sessions…I should try to get down for few days whether you decide to come or not"

"Sure" he said. "Though you'll have to tell your parents I'm the guy you've been passing off as the janitor or a neighbour or what was it…oh yeah…the local Republican candidate…for the last few months when I've answered your phone"

Caro laughed as she let go his hand and went to pour coffee. It was perfectly true she'd said all those things after the first occasion it happened. Early one morning, when Mrs Reese called to say Caroline's youngest brother had become a father for the first time. He must have said _"ma'am"_ to her thirty times before he handed over to her. Caro thought it was hilarious he was as awkward and embarrassed as if her Mom had walked in and caught them making out on the kitchen table at seven am. Got so now if he picked up, Mrs Reese asked if he was the TV repairman or something and it didn't take a genius to work out where the_"slightly cruel and twisted"_ streak her daughter had came from.

"Mind if I sit down?" she asked to be sure he didn't want privacy for a job she knew he'd been putting off.

"Of course not Caro" he said.

"What's that one?"

Goren kept it image down under his hand. "Never mind. I said you could sit not that you could look"

"It's the naked baby one isn't it?" she grinned. "What is it about those pictures? Come on show me Rob! If you come to Virginia with me I promise I'll let Mom show you mine"

"She wouldn't"

"Don't be so sure. So let me look"

"I think its Frank anyway" he muttered, though he was sure it was him investigating a part of his anatomy a diaper usually covered at that age.

Caro shoved his hand away, turned it over and dramatically looked from him to the picture and back. "I think it's you"

"Don't think so" he said tossing into the _"trash pile"_ Frank with some girl.

She sipped her coffee and turned it round. "No it's you Rob. It's the ears. Ears don't change much"

He looked up from his fifth grade class picture sensing a smothered giggle, picked up his coffee and glared at her.

"And all babies do..do it. You should know that"

"I do. I was just thinking how well you lived up to your early and very obvious potential"

Goren was certain he was facing death for the second time in nine days as coffee ended up going into most parts of his respiratory system. Lucky not to split the wound open as he coughed and gasped for breath.

_**To be continued…**_


	36. Chapter 36

**Tuesday 27****th**** July**

**_Major Case Squad Room_**

When Eames hurried through the door that morning something seemed different. Different yet the same and most of all, as they should be. Goren at his desk, frowning at his computer screen. He was pretty much IT literate but occasionally he either forgot the simplest things or had never worked out how to do the ones he would mutter were _"non-essential"._ Or claimed, _"it just happened"_ when something went wrong.

And why he didn't know how to do or fix them, was that Eames did it for him. Like most men and with a lot of things, it was usually quicker and easier to do them yourself. That way they were done right and it put a stop to that _"helpless and pathetic"_ expression, which even Goren wasn't above putting on now and then.

It was one reason why there were women all over 1PP in useful locations who would stop what they were doing or go to trouble just because it was Bobby Goren. Eames was never sure he didn't cultivate them on purpose. To get bigger portions in the cafeteria, someone to sort out various forms when he submitted them late or wrong and the attention of a pretty young girl from the support section. Who came immediately to Bobby's assistance when he messed up the photocopier or seemed to have killed another printer.

Eames had a little smile to herself and decided to let him go on suffering a little longer while she went via the coffee machine and she doubted even Goren had forgotten the four digit number was part of his password. Or if he had, he only had to look at his belt where his badge was usually fixed to get a reminder.

And he did look very different to the way he had when he dropped by yesterday afternoon to give Ross the medical document cleared him to return to work and fill in a couple of forms. He was halfway to the Captain's office before someone realised the tall figure in old combat pants and a t-shirt with a slightly vulgar message was Goren. And it wasn't just the clothes. His hair was longer than Eames had ever seen it, he was sporting a light tan on his arms and what of the face was visible under maybe a weeks worth of facial hair. But most important, he looked fit and well and there was no sign of him favouring his right leg.

Eames doubted he was in with Ross as long as he was discussing his very different sartorial appearance and the expression on their Captain's face when they came out was mostly one of bemusement. As Ross stood a few minutes watching people cluster round one of his greatest puzzles to really understand or solve. Eames eventually rescued Goren from the embarrassment of the positive attention.

"Morning" she said finally getting to her desk. "Bet the haircut, shaving and putting a suit on came as a shock to your system. Never mind getting up the crack of dawn again"

"Morning. Not really. I've mostly been out of…" he trailed off poking at the keys.

Leaving Eames to conclude he'd not been waking many mornings on his own and getting up before Caro left for Colombia.

"Eames?" the tone was that one of slight helplessness as she began to check her e-mail.

"Yes?" she enquired with deliberate nonchalance.

"Can you please remind me again how to change the screensaver? Faith has switched this to that multi-colour, wiggly and exploding thing. And you know it drives me nuts"

"I'll do it for you in a moment Goren"

"Thank you Eames"

Five minutes later he'd moved near enough everything in, on or around the desk, including the telephone, to accommodate his left-handedness. And the screen was gently changing between pictures of very expensive super cars, impossible on a cops salary and works of art. Whose only common feature was that the figures in them seemed to have either two heads, be naked or enduring some ghastly fate. Yet her partner still wondered why some people thought him a little strange.

_**The Green Parrot Cocktail Lounge, East 128**__**th**__** St**_

It was a fancy name for a basement bar notorious for the things that went on there, what you could buy there and the clientele. You wouldn't be surprised to find Rasputin, Bluebeard the Pirate, Hannibal Lector and Hitler sitting in a corner sipping gin and playing a hand of it together.

Eames and Dempsey had briefed Goren on this case they were working on the way up town in the SUV and Faith hadn't seemed to mind being consigned to the rear. They had a tip they might find Pauli Patterson here. A regular customer of the New York justice and penal system but also a useful snitch. Particularly when there were outstanding warrants on him and especially about the current state of the market for illegal handguns.

Goren wasn't about to step on their professional toes so he asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Block the rear exit" said Dempsey as they got out along the street.

Initially with badges and guns hidden. Otherwise the _Green Parrot_ would empty of all its customers quicker than Riker's on a Friday night if someone forgot to bolt the door on their way out.

"And look ugly and menacing" added Eames. "You can do that very easily and you know how that lubricates Pauli's vocal chords.

As they went down the steps Goren was still picking the insult out of that one. Though ten minutes later in the back alley a block away, it was the threat of leaving him alone with Dempsey and Eames that was giving Pauli the greatest incentive to re-activate his memory.

_**Broadway/West 34**__**th**__** Street**_

Pauli hadn't given them all the answers they hoped for but he had pointed them in the right direction. If you could call two more visits to less glamorous locations in New York a direction you wanted to go in. Three stomachs were past rumbling time by then, so Eames swung by that way to stop at one of her favourite concession stands. And persuade Goren he owed she and Faith lunch.

They were sat munching their way through _"large dogs"_ with near enough everything as he crossed back over the street. Minus the red patterned tie he'd left on the front seat.

He got back in and turned down the visor mirror to get it back on neat.

"I didn't see Poochy" said Eames licking tomato ketchup off the end of the bun before it dripped.

"You won't" he replied. "Poochy died I'm afraid"

"Aaw. That's sad. Poor Marge"

"He was fourteen apparently. Which in dog years is close to a hundred"

"Had a good innings then" shrugged Eames.

"Yeah but Marge is quite lost without him" Goren said clipping the tie straight.

"Is this the dog that almost bit your…"

"Yes" he barked himself at Faith. "Though his relationship with Logan's leg was far more serious and committed and possibly rewarding for Poochy"

"Longest one Mike had in a long time I heard" muttered the younger woman from the back.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Eames glanced over at her partner who had pretty much got up to speed through the day on several cases, was beginning to contribute ideas without making it sound like she and Faith had been lost but was starting to look tired. She'd kept down a lot of the paperwork came everyone's way and tried to prioritise for him what he had to read, would probably want to read and trashed a lot she knew Goren never would.

The shift was more or less over as she said "Why don't you head off Goren? Or take that with you to read with a beer and a baseball game later.

"I'll give it half an hour" he said chin in hand and turning a page. "Expecting a call"

Ten minutes later his phone rang and when he said _"Hi Sophie"_ you knew that was the Chief of D's secretary on the line. It seemed he was to go up to see him there and then.

There was no secret that the current Chief wasn't Goren's greatest fan, unlike his predecessor who waited for six months for him to complete an operation in Narco to get him across to Major Case and fill a slot. But that didn't mean the guy would forget the social niceties and would give him the same, brief _"Welcome back"_ ten minutes he did most officers returning from sick or maternity leave or who had been assigned elsewhere for a while

By the time Eames left to meet Dave for dinner, Goren had not returned and she had a sense that was where Danny Ross was also heading when he'd gone in the direction of the elevators.

_**To be continued…**_


	37. Chapter 37

**Thursday 29****th**** July**

_**Office Of The District Attorney**_

Eames stepped out of the elevator into the lobby quietly seething and holding tight to the Inglewood file. She could cheerfully shoot Theresa Randle and her boss Jack McCoy, even if there was something very attractive about the damned man.

Inglewood was a lazy, sleaze ball, electrical contractor who had done a lot of work for tight-fisted, private landlords amongst others all over the city. Corners were cut and that led to the deaths of three adults and one child that they knew of, the result of one fire and one electrocution. But she and Dempsey had caught up to him and set up a_"sting operation"_ to prove it was shoddy workmanship not the victims messing with the power supply after all. A feasible explanation he'd been able to offer based on the evidence.

Nor would Eames deny some of her insight and understanding of electrical fires had come, if not in pillow talk with Dave Seaborn, discussions and demonstrations in his kitchen. The cases were not his but he'd pointed her in the direction of another couple of instances he'd come across. Luckily where people had not died.

They had Inglewood caught in the act and unable to wriggle off the hook and now the bloody lawyers were going to plead him down in exchange for testimony. Not so much on a couple of his _"employers"_ who were equally to blame, but because his brother-in-law was deep into narcotics and Inglewood _"knew stuff"._

It was hard sometimes to accept certain decisions were out of your hands and that crap Randle spouted about _"wood and trees"_ was something Eames had heard many times before.

"Whoa there Officer" said a man she walked into

"Sorry" Eames muttered then looked again. "My, my Matt Desmond. What brings you all the way from The Bronx?"

They were old classmates from the Academy and Desmond was still as good looking and hotly tipped for a Captain's berth in the next year.

"Same as you I expect Alex" he said as they gave each other a hug. "You look great"

"You're a married man now Matt. How's Maddy?"

"No law against looking. She's good. Hinting about a brother or sister for Jenny"

"Already?"

"She's 18 months now Al" he shrugged.

"Sheesh. It's been a long time but how it flies"

"True" he glanced at his watch "I'm in a rush now but I tried to call you last night and intended to try you at work later"

"Always happy to accept Maddy's cooking" laughed Eames "Can I bring a friend?"

"Sure…um…but that wasn't why. It's something else" Matt steered her slightly out the way of foot traffic.

"I've been asked to consider a berth in Major Case, Alex. Initially, just a temporary one but with a strong hint it might be longer. Would mean a more tricky commute but…to be asked is…and long term…career…you know"

"Great Matt" she smiled "You'll fit in fine if that's what you are wondering"

"Wasn't that as much as why? No-one has said and you know sometimes it can be…difficult"

Eames nodded and said quietly. "No one is close to being offered a tactical early retirement or has a suspension pending, if that's what you are worried about"

"It was" Desmond nodded.

Those were notoriously difficult situations to walk into when there were suspicions around an officer. You often found yourself double-checking their past cases and had the resentment of their loyal buddies on the team.

"We're almost permanently a body down" Eames shrugged. "And then…it's the maternity leave I expect. Carol's starts next week and I think one of our guys might be up for one of those eight week residential courses the FBI do at Quantico"

"That's a relief anyway. Sorry must go. Late already"

"So you are saying yes?"

"Call you at the weekend" Matt tapped his nose as he held the elevator door to get in. "Fix dinner for you and…what's he called…?"

Eames never answered since he wouldn't hear anyway. But Matt was a _"good cop"_ in every sense, who might make everyone's life easier and was a minor victory for Ross in his perennial struggle to keep everyone's caseloads manageable and the Squad's _"solve rate"_ up. Just a pity the damn lawyers then ratted you out.

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

As Eames walked in the door, Ross came hurtling out of his office with something in his hand.

"Which of you?" he more or less yelled. "Knows anything about this?

"It's a dog Captain" said one foolish soul without thinking, as his superior officer held up a ball of black and white fluff.

Eames tried to look inconspicuous as she sat down, knew Goren was fumbling under his desk and hissed. "I told you that pet carrier door was loose Bobby"

Her partner had arrived slightly late that morning and originally had the puppy he collected from the pound in the locker room. But it sat in there crying and some stiff from Traffic, who shared the 11th floor, had come in moaning and quoting regulations. So Goren had snuck Poochy's un-named successor under his desk in the doubtful box.

Where he went to sleep or seemed to be content with the occasional chew on Goren's toe through the mesh until they could deliver him. Goren had checked with Miss Ringwald's niece it was okay and it wouldn't be far out of their way somewhere they had to be later.

Goren stood up. "Um…it's evidence"

"Which case?" snorted Ross moving the puppy to his arms and trying to pretend he wasn't petting it. "Finding Nemo?"

"Babe: Psychopath in the city?" suggested Mike.

"Careful Logan! Or you'll be helping him. Well move yourself Goren! Go fetch a bucket and cloth. The little bast…thing…has peed on my new carpet and there's a nasty smell you can apply your well known olfactory sense to locating the source for"

"Yes sir" he muttered pulling a pair of gloves from his desk drawer.

"Don't look at me partner" sniggered Eames. "You're on your own with this one"

_**Dave Seaborn's Apartment, Queens**_

Dave found the story of the puppy Marge Ringwald had decided to call Poochy to avoid confusion, light relief after the day he had. Sifting through the remains of a warehouse fire whose collapse had killed one fire fighter and badly injured two others. He'd seem to get the measure of Goren in their two brief meetings.

The first when work brought them together and when Eames was sure Bobby took himself off on purpose. As much sensing the discrete _"interest"_ the two of them were showing each other, as motivated by his insatiable curiosity to learn something from Dave's colleague. The second time was the first week Goren was home from hospital, when they were _"sick visiting"_ though by then he was getting around his place without the stick.

It had slightly surprised her Caro wasn't over in Brooklyn that time, though Eames somewhat doubted she'd abandoned him and just hoped her self-contained partner wasn't pushing her away as he had done to people after his Mom died. But in the scheme of things Goren going down to Virginia for those few days was more of a surprise. Meeting someone's parents didn't have the _"significance"_ it once did but Eames had not teased him about it.

So as they washed dishes, Dave could well imagine the looks on his face that morning when his rather sweet and kind thought for a dotty old lady backfired on Goren. Or from what Eames gathered, had backfired over a large corner of Ross's precious, almost new, carpet.

Goren had not said why he was called to see the Chief again that afternoon, but Eames doubted it was over the dog business. Ross wasn't that petty and had even given the puppy some milk from his small icebox. All the time pretending to loathe the little thing.

But for three days Eames had sensed some things were different or _"not quite right"_ about her partner. Something she could not decide whether it was work related or personal. _And perhaps it was her? Underestimating the impact of what had happened and not giving Bobby enough time to settle back in to his life?_

_**Goren's Apartment, Brooklyn**_

As his senses finally stopped sending pulses of delicious sensations through his own body Goren became aware Caro's under him had quit doing the same and was relaxing as they almost melted together. He felt her thigh slide up his own a little more, before she curled her leg over the back of his. Stroking his slightly heaving sides gently before he shifted his arms, his upper body weight to his left elbow and rested his head in the palm.

Looking at her in the soft light, mouth slightly open and with the faint hint of a smile on her lips. Her eyes no longer bright with a healthy degree of lust but a warm contentment. And he knew full well when she looked up at him she was seeing the same on his face.

He reached out to brush back some stray hair from her face and felt her lips turn briefly onto the ball of his thumb. Kissing it before he ran his fingertips from there to her neck and the length of her body he could reach. Hot, slightly damp in places like his own.

"You know Rob" she said softly. "You really will have to take a look at this bed head"

"I know" he sighed. "Comes a point where a faint and rather sexy background noise can become a distraction. Luckily just as it might have for me my…attention became fully focussed elsewhere"

"Your attention to detail is excellent" Caro smiled.

"Fascinating subject" he said quietly and then glanced in the direction of the wall. "And fixing a crack in that before I move out is one thing I don't need"

"You're going to be busy Rob"

"I know. Worth it though"

"I'm sure it will be" she returned the brush of his mouth on hers. "So what's the first thing?"

"Nothing I intend doing right now" he wriggled his pelvis into a more comfortable position against hers. "But that will be telling Alex"

_**To be continued…**_


	38. Chapter 38

**Friday 30****th**** July**

_**La Fontana Di Amore, Grand St, Little Italy**_

You rarely got a proper _"lunch break"_ in their job and if you ate at all it was usually on the move or something swallowed at your desk. Little wonder they say cops have a higher than average incidence of stomach problems. So when Goren suggested he would buy her a proper sit down lunch, Eames was slightly surprised, though the morning's work did mean they were only a block or two away from one of their favourite places.

Mama Bertorelli greeted them both like long lost children and _"La Fontana"_ was one of the places they tried to eat together twice a year. Near Goren's birthday, which was still three weeks away and her own. That was long gone and he'd treated her that day at a Greek place up town. But when they were seated, her partner was obviously bothered by something. Twitchy, nervous and self-conscious and building up to something and nothing to do with the case they were working.

Eames wondered briefly, as he gave Mama their order and almost managed to knock over the water jug, whether she should think about buying a hat or start organising a baby shower.

Goren quit fiddling with his silverware, looked up and almost blurted, "I want you to be the first know Alex that…um…I'm leaving the department…"

"What!!" she said almost loud enough to rattle the ice in the water jug and it certainly made a few other early diners look around.

She lowered her voice. "What do you mean…you're leaving? You can't! This is to do with what happened…you can get help for that Bobby…it's post traumatic stress…what would you do anyway? How could you decide this without talking to me?"

There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"You didn't tell me the whole thing did you?"

"Didn't give me a lot of chance Alex" he said mildly.

"Go on then" she muttered. "Now you've let me make an idiot of myself"

Goren knew it would somehow end up being his fault.

"It's just for six months. I'm taking unpaid leave of absence and this has nothing to do with what happened. I decided to do it before then and had even spoken to Ross about it that morning"

Eames looked at him a moment. "I know you'll be straight with me Bobby. This isn't…um…this isn't instead of you going sick…needing some help…only I thought you were…seemed fine again. Or did I miss something else damn obvious?"

"No you didn't" he said kindly. "And it's not because I need treatment or anything like that. I really don't. I just need some time to myself. Nor am I about to embark on some massive self-improvement scheme. I aim to just bum around part of the time"

"I find that hard to believe. Though I dread to think what you would be like after six months spent with your nose in a million books. Even more unbearable"

"Thanks" he sipped some water.

"I just realised something Bobby" she said quietly. "You never had a lot of chance in your life to _"bum around" _as you put it, did you? Do what you wanted to do? Or just do nothing? With your Mom and everything?"

He nodded. "You're right and that is part of it. Circumstances and my own…my own driven nature I guess. So part of the time I do intend to spend doing very little, or more accurately, doing a lot of things I never did and wanted to do"

"Such as?"

Goren shrugged. "Hike the Grand Canyon? Take a gondola in Venice? Learn Japanese or to play the piano? Build a doghouse or grow a pepper from seed? The list is kind of long, still growing and I doubt I'll do them all. And I do intend to take some classes in the spring. Perhaps build up credit towards a masters?"

"Maybe somewhere in Boston?" Eames hinted.

"Maybe" he said picking up the napkin as Mama brought his swordfish and salad and her tuna linguini.

For a couple of minutes they just ate as Eames tried to get her head around what Goren was saying. And manage not to choke or yell at him a second time. When she found out he was leaving in a month's time. She had not expected it to be that quickly and neither it seemed had Goren, though he confessed he had asked if it was possible, for it to be soon.

Eames understood now why the length of that conversation with Ross at the beginning of week, the couple of times he'd been to see the Chief and of course part of what must be behind the offer made to her friend Matt Desmond. He was coming in to help cover the maternity leave and, heaven help the guy, to try and fill Goren's big shoes.

Eames swallowed some tuna. "Can I be nosy Bobby?"

The look as he chewed on some bread told her he was resisting some comment like _"You always are"._

"I take it Caro knows about this? Agrees with it? And I don't mean in a professional sense"

"She does" he stabbed a chunk of swordfish. "Was her I finally tried to explain it to and you're right. It wasn't her professional opinion I was asking for. Nor her permission"

"Oh" said Eames quietly.

Goren glanced up with a brief frown before his face relaxed.

"I just realised something too Alex. You thought I brought you here to tell you she was quitting her job in Boston didn't you?"

"No" she lied.

"You were halfway to _Bloomingdale's_" Goren teased "And you were not sure whether you should be heading for the wedding registry or the baby department"

Eames scowled at him. "Well okay maybe I was"

She stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. "You're not about to drop another bombshell on me are you?"

"Those would be a bombshell to me" he said softly. "Right now anyway"

"So you're not ruling them out? In the future then?" she asked.

_Minding your own business had limits at times._

"Not ruling anything like those things out or in right now" Goren shrugged splitting some more bread. "Apart from where I'll be next April, the future is a wide open country for me"

"I'm not so sure Bobby" Alex frowned. "Get yourself to Arizona and you might decide to spend the rest of your life climbing the trail with a bunch of mules. I could see you doing that"

"Perhaps I'll end up in a monastery in the Himalayas, wearing saffron robes and with my own set of finger cymbals?" he suggested.

Eames laughed. "This all sounds a bit like that and the colour would suit you"

"No I won't. And besides you said it yourself right at the start. What else would I do? Want some of this salad?"

"Thanks" she took some from his plate. "You could do lots of things Goren"

"I don't want to do anything else. And if this is some mid life crisis it's not about the job, it's about me. Not me as a cop but who I really am"

She looked over at him for a long moment and swallowed hard. "We're not talking genetics here are we?"

"No" he said quietly. "And I know the answer to that one. Have done since a few days after I came out the hospital. So you know? The man I called Dad is…was…my biological father"

Alex took a deep breath. It was irrational, but she was relieved in one way Mark Brady wasn't his father. But before she could speak Bobby seemed to read her mind as he continued.

"Let's be honest Alex, it wasn't a great pedigree either way was it? One who ended up a serial killer and you know what kind of father my old man turned out to be" he paused. "And you know enough about my Mom to know I grew up wondering...sometimes thinking I might..."

"I do" Alex said softly. "So what is it about? Do you even know yourself?"

"I think so" Bobby set down his fork. "Took me a long time to work it out. Has a lot to do with my early life and the effect it had on me. Like you say, Mom's illness didn't give me the luxury of some of the care free and irresponsible time a lot of people get growing up. Was a factor for a lot of my life"

Eames had often wondered about that though Goren had not said it outright. How much his commitment of time and emotion to his mother in her later years might have either caused problems in his own relationships or been a factor in him not marrying. That he felt he couldn't invest himself in the way he would see as _"enough"_ to make a success of marriage and to being the _"good son"_ no question to her mind, he was to his Mom.

"But it's more than that Alex. It's about being sure who I am, as opposed to needing to be a Robert Goren who is not the worst possible outcome of his nature, nurture and childhood example.

Alex looked at him a moment and suddenly understood a lot better. How a lot of Bobby's life must have been like that. Feeling he always had to _"do"_ and _"be"_ things to prove himself against those odds. It certainly explained a lot about him.

"I think I understand Bobby" she said fiddling with her food for a moment. "You spent so much of your life trying to prove you were not your Mom, your Dad or even Frank"

"Something like that" he shrugged. "I think of it like one of those mirrors at the funfair. You know? The ones that distort your image so your head is the size of a cantaloupe? I worked so hard at times Alex…so hard…not to be…not to be the other strange…other negative reflections I saw. I'm not sure I ever saw the one that was really meant to be me. Then the mirror cracked for a while so I saw nothing…couldn't see myself at all…and now? I just need some time to get used to what I see. Perhaps focus a few blurry edges? Too late to do much about most of what I am"

"I hope not Bobby. You're mostly fine just you…just the way you are. A lot of people think that even if they don't tell you often enough"

"Thanks. Now are you going to go all mushy on me?"

"Could be" she smiled. " You do know I love you Goren? Even when the mirror got a bit cracked for a while?"

"I do. I love you too Eames and I think I might know how to make you love me more"

"How's that?"

"By ordering the eight scoop ice cream with two spoons and letting you pick all the flavours this time Alex"

"Smart move Bobby"

_**To be continued…**_


	39. Chapter 39

**Friday 27****th**** August**

_**Roark's Bar**_

The bar was crowded. More crowded Eames concluded than Goren might have liked it to be. But if her often too self-effacing partner thought he could avoid something of a party, he was sadly mistaken. He'd skipped out last week for his birthday to drive up to Boston. With a small truck full of his personal things it was no surprise to Eames would be going there while his apartment was let for six months.

Between his vague travel plans, it was fairly obvious where he'd be staying in New York and where Goren would be living and doing some study early next year. Indeed, it would never surprise her in six months time if there were a call to Danny Ross, either with his resignation or to find out if he could transfer to the Police Department in Boston.

Whatever his future held, Alex was very sure Caroline Reese would be part of it in some way. It was just a matter of waiting until Goren came to that conclusion himself. He could be exceptionally stupid at times and slow to recognise what would be _"good"_ for him. No different to most men in that regard.

But Caro was not among the people packed into the place largely at Eames and Logan's instigation. As Mike had pointed out, it wasn't like they were expecting to be rid of Bobby permanently and too much celebration of temporary respite from him might seem rude. Yet he was, of course, one of those who would miss him most.

They all would in Major Case and that was why everyone who could be there was there, including Matt Desmond and Rose Longley. She had been temporarily transferred as well, from _Vice_, to work with Roy and Bill respectively. Their first day getting their heads around their cases, to know a little of their new partners and Goren's last. Just before they left for the bar one of his last acts had been to hand Ross his gun and badge, as Eames tried to put out of her mind those thoughts again. That in six months time they would still be in the Captain's drawer and Bobby not there to pick them up and take his place opposite her.

Where Faith Dempsey would be, which suited Alex fine when Danny Ross had suggested pairing the two of them again. Bobby seemed to think they would make a great team and Eames had learned to accept his judgement on many things over the last six years. And she and Faith had certainly had their fun with him at the end, as he was clearing his desk and insisting his screen saver pictures be saved to a disc just in case they vanished permanently. Before telling the younger woman she now had his permission to switch over to that _"multi-coloured, wiggly, exploding thing"_ he so disliked.

Most of those in the bar were cops. Not just from their squad but a few of his closer buddies they invited from his brief precinct days, from_ Narco _where some still worked, though others like Goren had moved on. Finn Tutuola for example, had been his partner there at one stage. He had arrived with Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler. Eames doubted Bobby and Elliot would ever be that close but the truce was lasting and as revealing about the man who was no longer officially her partner, were the other people who were there.

A small flock of those civilian female staff it seemed to Eames fell into two groups. Those who wanted to mother Goren and the other half would jump his bones at the slightest encouragement. One or two of whom she suspected, might have succeeded in that ambition. Though probably not Kathy who fell into the first category and had made the combined birthday and farewell cake in the 1PP kitchen. And almost certainly not Sally from _Personnel_ helping him hand it round. Far too young and doe-eyed not just for his tastes, but as he pointed out one time Alex teased him about her devotion, easily young enough to be his daughter.

As you might expect a fair clutch of lawyers like Theresa, Jack McCoy and Ron Carver, who it seemed to Eames had a far closer relationship to Goren than she realised or they ever had when they worked together. And clashed horns more than once on just about any topic you could name, including work.

But then the rest of the mix was very eclectic just like the man himself. A couple of his Army buddies, one of whom was still a serving soldier, several academics including a class mate from college as well as two of his closest friends. A rabbi and a friend from back when Goren was a failed altar boy. Hard to imagine him ever making a success of that, but Father John perhaps held out hope he'd one-day return to the fold and it was he who was going to live in Goren's apartment. While his huge parish house underwent conversion into a halfway house for recovering addicts.

It was a strange mix crammed into booths or against the bar when Danny Ross had made a brief speech Bobby was too slow to escape and presented him with a box containing various gifts. Both serious and silly for his planned travels. Quite how Goren managed to _"mess up"_ his portable CD player Eames had no idea and Caro had not said, but thanks to her they had a good idea what to get him. In the shape of an iPod that they had taken precaution to get downloaded with some of his favourite music as well. A similarly mixed bag and with luck, it would survive Bobby's occasional techno-phobic moments, wherever it went with him in the next six months.

"Alex?" Goren's voice startled her from her reverie.

A mix of happiness Goren was at last getting the chance to do something he felt he needed to and the thought had occurred to her so often in the last month. That he wouldn't be coming back.

"Uhuh? What is it Bobby?"

"I need to go now" he said in that tone suggested it was pointless trying to persuade him otherwise.

When she glanced up, Caro was at the bar talking to Danny Ross and packing away his going away gifts in a box. No telling what their plans were as she offered to give him some help with the two smaller ones from his desk they'd carried round from 1PP.

It took almost another ten minutes to get from the back of the bar to the front door as Goren said goodbye to everyone and people wished him well. Eames almost wished she was 22 and doe eyed so she could get upset and receive the awkward hug and promise he'd be back, that he gave young Sally.

Even at the Mustang waiting outside, Alex couldn't bring herself to say_"goodbye"_ as the last box went in and she and Caro promised to call each other and fix a girl's night out. An idea had Bobby giving them both a look suggested he was afraid to ask and wouldn't want to hear the answer if he did. So they stood looking awkwardly at each other until she said, _"See you Goren"_ and turned away towards _Roark's._

But at the door she couldn't stop herself from turning round and looking back to see Bobby. Not getting into the Ford but draping his tie had been loose for some hours, round Caro's neck. Pulling her closer with the two ends and kissing her softly a couple of times. Perhaps intended as hors d'oeuvres to a main course he never did get to enjoy. As a horn suddenly blasted from across and down the street.

It came from an old VW Westphalia camper van and it was to that, Bobby hurried and got into the passenger seat. It spluttered reluctantly to life, belched almost certainly illegal emission into the air and pulled away. No two panels that Eames could see looked to be the same colour and it's somewhat erratic progress and lot of revving suggested the timing was badly off or there was a fuel line problem.

Eames frowned. From inside there suddenly came a booming drum and bass line that was oddly familiar. From an amplifier sounded more powerful than the engine and liable to shake the whole vehicle to pieces. At the junction it did an illicit U turn and headed back her way. The VW badge was at a precarious angle and the headlamps were held in place with more filler than panel or chrome.

Lewis was driving which explained his absence earlier and the _"neighborhood drummer's sound"_ Bruce Springstein was singing about, threatened to disturb the peace clear across fifty city blocks. The turn at the end of the street didn't leave you totally convinced by the steering and Eames doubted Goren stood much chance of discovering any kind of _"a wide open country"_ in that thing. Be lucky to make it to the end of Pearl Street and be back at the bar in five minutes asking for volunteers to push them wherever they were heading.

_**To be concluded…**_

_Note:__ The "neighborhood drummer's sound" and "a wide open country" are phrases from _"No Surrender" (Born In The USA)


	40. Postscript

_**Postscript**_

**Monday 30****th**** August**

_**Major Case Squad Room**_

Eames arrived early, furious about traffic, the rain and juggling some files, her jacket, her purse, keys and cup of coffee. She dropped the half eaten blueberry muffin trying and failing to put some of the items on her desk.

"Dammit Goren! Must you leave your…" she muttered before stopping herself and glancing around. Just glad the few people already there didn't seem to notice.

His leather folder sat in the centre of her desk. It was here and he was not and would not be anytime soon. Probably still stuck in the Holland Tunnel or had that camper van impounded by the New Jersey State Troopers as a threat to public safety.

Eames moved the folder aside, unable to understand why he left it behind. Goren was almost glued to that folder, like it was an extension of him. Underneath was a gift-wrapped parcel. The card was in his writing, with her name on it.

She tore off the paper; smiled at the _Number 2 Yankees_ shirt, which was signed by its usual wearer and then read the note.

"_I expect to be very busy until the end of October. But another cop gave me your number and I'll call you then Alex. To arrange a time and place for a foot massage"_

She doubted Derek Jeter would call, but she could hope. It would also give her time to work out how the hell Goren fixed that one.

Her smile was broad across her face by then and after momentary hesitation, Alex picked up Bobby's folder and slid the zip around. Inside was a brief message.

"_Alex. I left this because the names and numbers of my helpful contacts are in it. Hope you can make use of them in the next few months. Please take care of it for me until I come back...but most of all…of yourself"_

It was signed_"Rob"._

"Rob?" Alex said softly to herself. "Yeah? I guess I could get used to that Goren"

_**THE END**_


End file.
